Can't Be Both
by LianneZ4
Summary: In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.
1. Prologue

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

_Can't Be Both has been beta'd by GrayWolf84. I can't even begin to describe how much she helped me – with legal details (come later in the story), with advice, with moral support and ideas when I got stuck… So, I guess I just want to say "Thank you" - for everything._

_This whole story is already finished; the following chapters will be posted in the next few days.  
><em>

_Also, let me state that this story has in no way been influenced by any of the teasers for the second half of Season 3 - thus, anything similar there is completely accidental. The story will also most likely become very AU in mere thirty days; but for now – please, enjoy!_

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

When they are contacted, the phone is immediately put on the speaker. Given the fact that Peter is still far from his best, it falls to Kramer to make the negotiations.

"What do you want?" asks Kramer into the phone, while the group of FBI agents listens anxiously. Another group is in the next room, trying to track the call.

_"Like I've told Burke, I want the Nazi treasure. Give it to me, together with a free way out, and I won't harm a hair on the lovely lady's head."_

Kramer notices the outraged expressions in the faces around them. He also notices that Caffrey's wide-eyed face has turned a shade paler.

"I'm afraid you're asking the impossible," he says aloud. "Even if we were to negotiate, the treasure burned."

_"Oh. Well, that's a real pity. In that case, I'm _afraid_ that the lady is now of no use to me – "_

"You've won."

Everyone turn their attention to Caffrey, who leans forward from his chair.

"I'll get you your treasure. In the meantime, you won't even as much as _look_ ugly at Elizabeth. First we want proof that she's alive and well, and you'll give us more proof every three hours."

Hughes hisses: _"Caffrey – "_

_"So you've finally made up your mind, Neal?"_ comes a chuckle from the other side of the line. _"Imagine that. And here I thought you're the guy who doesn't have the guts to make tough choices. Tell me, Neal, how does Mozzie like it that you're double-crossing him?"_

"Moz is gone," says Neal calmly. "So is the treasure. I will need time to get it back."

_"Oh, I love that,"_ purrs Keller. "_So the little guy ran out on you? What a wonderful friendship you have with him. No honor between us thieves, eh?"_

"You have _no idea_what honor is, Keller," grits Neal through his teeth, painfully obvious of all the attention the FBI agents are giving him.

_"Ah, but I think I do. Unlike _you_, Neal, m' boy. After all, I didn't lie to my friends for months and abuse their trust for stolen loot, now did I?"_

Neal realizes then with a sinking feeling that Keller isn't just after the treasure – he wants to bring Neal down, and hard.

And damn it if he isn't succeeding.

Except this isn't about Neal anymore.

"Look, I'll get you the damn treasure. Then you'll let Elizabeth go, unharmed. Do you agree?"

"Caffrey, you don't have the – "

But Neal's already grabbing a piece of paper and a pen.

"Do you agree, Keller?" asks Neal loudly, while he quickly scribbles on the paper with huge letters: MY GAME. STAY OUT OF THIS.

There's a silence on the other side of the phone. For a second, Neal is worried that he has blown it – but then Keller speaks again.

_"You know, if you're telling the truth, I could just go after Mozzie. I don't need you as a middleman. Except I think you're lying, Neal. You know where it is. You're just covering your ass with your precious FBI buddy. Oh that's right. He's probably not so happy with you anymore. Are you, Agent Burke?"_

"You'll never find Moz with the FBI on your back, not without resources," opposes Neal coolly.

_"You might be right,"_ replies Keller. _"That's why I'm so glad you're gonna get the treasure for me, my friend. And you better be quick, because while I really love this place, the Russians still want the money you and your FBI buddy robbed me of. I'm sure you understand how much more difficult it is to move with a hostage. … Yes, very difficult indeed. One would wonder why anybody would even bother with that, especially when the hostage's friends aren't cooperative enough. … You have three hours – "_

"A week," says Neal firmly, though inside he's deeply shaken. "I need time to contact Moz and get the treasure back."

He is answered by Keller's incredulous laugh. _"You really think I'm that stupid, Neal? D'you think I wouldn't have planned this through and through?"_

"No. Right now, you're desperate," says Neal resolutely. "You need money to pay off the Russians. Moreover, if you get caught, and the chances are enormous that you _will_, the FBI will lock you away for good. Admit it, Keller. You don't usually take risks this huge."

_"Ah, but you forgot a few things, Caffrey. Twenty years or life behind bars? There's little difference between them. Besides, I like the challenge."_

"I'm sure you do."

_"The treasure's a fine prize."_

"Is it?"

_"There usually isn't a six million bounty on my head either. I have to admit though, that was a nice touch on Mozzie's part. I didn't know you appreciated me that much. Of course, it's easier to part with six million when you have billions waiting elsewhere."_

"Yeah," says Neal curtly. "As much as I enjoy our talk, let's get to the point."

_"Time to move things along, eh?" _says Keller.

Neal doesn't take the bait.

_"Six hours,"_ says Keller lazily.

"No way," rebuffs him Neal flatly. "I won't have even established contact by then. I need a week."

_"In that case, I wonder whether Mrs. Burke truly _needs_ all of her fingers. If you need a little incentive…"_

**"Don't you **_**dare**_** hurt my wife!"**

"Peter…"

Kramer gently puts his hand on Peter's shoulder to restrain him and starts speaking to him in quiet, gentle words.

_"Agent Burke!" _exclaims Keller in delight. _"I was almost afraid that you weren't even in the room…"_

"We want proof that Elizabeth's alive and unharmed," interrupts Neal sharply.

_"That's nice. I always wanted to be the Queen of Denmark,"_ replies Keller. They can all hear the smirk in his face.

"The robes wouldn't suit you," opposes Neal reasonably.

_"Not everyone is as picky as you when it comes to clothes, Caffrey. You pretend to be a con mastermind, but in fact you're more of the world's greatest fashion freak."_

"Perhaps," concedes Neal. "You know, I still have an associate or two who owes me a few favors. If I pull some strings, I might be able to get to Mozzie sooner. Maybe six days would truly be enough. Give me six days."

_"Neal, I'm impressed. I didn't know you had that great sense of a humor!"_

"I'm always impressive. I have a few new jokes, too. Learned them from the FBI. Know this one? "'What is the difference between a sinking ship and a murderer in jail?'"

_"Go on."_

"'The ship can still be bailed out.'"

_"Funny. Thirty six hours." _

"Glad you liked it. Five days and half."

Keller chuckles. _"You drive a hard bargain, m'friend."_

"We're anything but friends, Keller," replies Neal.

He feels all the impatient and anxious eyes on him. Seriously, Neal is surprised they let this go on for this long. He needs to close the deal _fast_– or this might all blow up, and Elizabeth's dead.

"The chess game we played," he says, thinking quickly.

_"Yeah?"_

"You were eleven moves away from a checkmate or seven moves from a stalemate. I'm foregoing the stalemate. You won."

_"Does Neal Caffrey admit that he has been beaten at something?"_ asks Keller in delight.

"In this case? Yes."

Neal seriously hopes he is reading the situation right. He has played several games with Keller over the years, but none has been as deadly as this. He is sweating, and if he ever needed to prove that he has nerves of steel, it is now.

_"Two days,"_says Keller after a pause.

There is only one person Neal has ever hated as much as Keller right now, and that was when he thought that Fowler had killed Kate.

"Five days."

_"I'm getting tired of this, Caffrey,"_and Neal knows Keller won't budge much more. He is also running out of ideas.

Time for sacrifices.

"I know how Mozzie contacted the hitmen. I can get them off your back."

_"Now _that_ is a nice offer,"_ says Keller thoughtfully. _"In that case, maybe I could be persuaded to stay for a while longer. Three days plus six hours."_

"Four days and half."

_"Not good enough buddy."_

"You want the treasure, Keller," says Neal. "Elizabeth means nothing to you. And I'm sure you have a good hideout. You can wait a little longer."

_"Was that supposed to persuade me? Because it was downright pathetic, Neal."_

Neal fully agrees.

He has played all his cards, yet he knows that it isn't enough. By now, Moz is probably far away and Keller has no doubt made insurances that the FBI won't get him easily. He needs some way to buy them at least a bit more _time_–

Then he realizes once more that Keller isn't just after the treasure.

"What do you want from me?"

_"What do you have to offer?"_

Neal grabs fistfuls of his hair and tries to _think_, to come up with an answer –

"In May 2003, I broke into – "

But no, Keller doesn't want confessions of his past crimes, though he will gleefully let Neal implicate himself in front of the FBI agents.

"Before Madrid – "

But the recollection of their one-time partnership won't do it either.

Although he probably isn't that far from the point – because Keller wants revenge – for Madrid, and other things, but mostly for Madrid –

Neal knows now what Keller wants.

He sees Peter's struck expression. He thinks of Elizabeth. He doesn't really have a choice.

"Kate slept with you in Amsterdam."

It's out.

And somehow, the world still feels the same. Really, why should it change just because his long dead girlfriend cheated on him for a few nights with an "alleged" murderer?

_"Well done, Neal," _says Keller softly.

"We got over it," says Neal roughly.

_"Of course you did,"_ says Keller gently. _"It obviously didn't influence you when you wouldn't apologize for trying to con her to go to Europe again with you." _

"I made some stupid mistakes with Kate; so did she. It doesn't matter anymore."

_"Yet you'll never know how much of it was real. That must eat at you, Caffrey."_

A few months ago, Neal would have wanted to rip Keller to pieces for saying this, for _knowing _so damn much and for trying to plant all the doubts into his mind. Now...

"Me and Kate had what we had, Keller. It wasn't simple, it wasn't easy… but it _was _real, for what it was worth. Nothing you say can change that."

_"You killed her, Neal. You killed Kate. It's your fault that she's dead."_

Neal clutches his fist and then opens it again. "Believe what you want, Keller."

_"She died because of the music box. She died for the clues to that treasure – for the loot that you took. It's been what, a year and half? … You didn't really care about her at all, did you, Neal?"_

"This isn't about Kate, Keller," snaps Neal.

Elizabeth. This is about Elizabeth.

"I've said four days and half. Now it's your turn to make the offer."

_"Four days. That's my last word."_

"And every three hours, you'll give us proof."

_"Eight hours."_

"Six."

_"Agreed."_

"Then I accept as well," says Neal heavily.

_"Expect the video of your lady friend soon. It was pleasure doing business with you, Neal."_

"You better treat her well, Keller."

_"Goodbye buddy." _

Then Keller hangs up.

It takes several seconds for Neal to realize that it is over. The first round with Keller – the first battle for _Elizabeth's life_– has ended.

Up until then he didn't even realize how badly his hands are shaking.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Neal turns to the source of the question, not even comprehending the words. "What do you – "

"Did you enjoy that, Neal?" asks Peter again, obviously seething. "Did it feel good, playing another game with your old rival?"

"Peter, what are you – it wasn't a _game!_" exclaims Neal, feeling completely ill at Peter's suggestions.

"Maybe it was," snaps Peter harshly. "It's always a game for you, isn't it? Did you enjoy playing a game with _**my wife's life?"**_

Neal looks directly into Peter's eyes. "I just bought Elizabeth four days," he says calmly, masking his true distress. "For the next four days, she is untouchable. You will realize that once you're thinking clearly again – "

The punch catches him completely by surprise – though it shouldn't have.

"Maybe now I'm thinking clearly for the first time in two years," says Peter icily.

The pain in Neal's jaw is nothing compared to the sick feeling after Peter's words. "Peter – "

The agent turns away from him. "I'm going to check if they tracked the call," he says and leaves the room, followed by another agent.

The silence that follows is almost suffocating.

"So," says Diana at last, breaking the tension in the room, "we have four days to find Keller and rescue Elizabeth."

"How likely is it that Keller will keep his word?" asks Agent Dawson from Organized crime division.

"He will."

All attention turns to Neal again. He gives out a tired sigh and explains. "I know Keller. He is a backstabbing bastard and a killer, but there's one thing you can be sure of with him: he won't break the rules of his own game. Not unless his life or freedom are directly threatened, at least. Unless we do something stupid, he won't harm Elizabeth."

"What happens when the four days are up?" asks an agent – Harris? – another one from the Organized Crime.

That is the real question, isn't it.

"It's possible Keller doesn't know what he'll do, either," says Diana. "He has killed before, but as far as we know, the only other hostage he's ever taken was Peter, and he wasn't directly present then."

"Do we think that he will harm her?" asks Jones.

"He won't, unless we give him a reason to," says Neal. "He's not the kind of psychopath who takes pleasure in torturing people just for the kicks of it, but if he thinks harming Elizabeth will get him something…"

"You seem to know him very well," remarks Agent Kramer.

"I do," says Neal. He hesitates before revealing more. "We were… friendly associates, a long time ago. That was until I allegedly saw him shoot another man – just because he _could_."

"You saw him _shoot_ someone and you never reported it." The agent isn't even trying to hide the accusation in the statement.

"No, I didn't," answers Neal. "I was twenty and in a shock, I wasn't supposed to be there and I had no proof. Besides, I wasn't ready to give up my alleged career just yet."

Really, what more is there to say?

"If we don't comply with his wishes, will he kill her?" asks Agent Harris.

"Maybe not right away, but in the end, yes." There is not even a moment of hesitation in Neal's voice.

"Let's pretend we have the treasure, agree to forget the FBI policy and give the treasure to Keller," says Kramer. "Will he release her then?"

"There's no way to tell," says Agent Dawson.

Unfortunately, he is right.

Silence.

"We need to track him down," says Harris at last and stands up. He leaves the room with another group of people, leaving behind only Diana, Jones, Neal and Kramer.

"When you spoke to Keller," starts Jones, "were you bluffing? Or was that all true?"

"We need to know if you have the treasure, Neal," says Diana when Neal doesn't immediately answer.

"I don't have it," says Neal and looks up. "If I had it, I would give it up without a heartbeat. No amount of money is worth anyone's life."

"But it didn't burn," says Diana.

"No."

Which, Neal knows, is as good as admission of guilt.

And maybe he should finally take some damned responsibility for his actions.

He snaps out of the guilt and anxiety and wills himself to concentrate on the matter on hand. "I have some idea where it is," he says. "I'll make some calls – "

"So Mozzie truly has it."

Neal doesn't know how to answer to Diana's statement. "I need to speak to him," he says, neither denying nor confirming her words.

"How quickly can you reach him?" asks Jones.

"Soon. We'll get the treasure back in time."

"Did you steal it, Caffrey?" asks Kramer directly.

A day ago, Neal would have said no. After all, he didn't know when the art was being stolen; hell, he barely touched it except for the Degas he recovered. Now he realizes it's just an empty excuse.

"I'm sorry."

He gets up from his chair, avoiding their eyes. He has a lot of calls to make.

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><p><em>AN: For some reason, the document mannager has eaten several of the gaps in the story. That should be corrected by now. Uh._


	2. Chapter 1

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

** Summary: **In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

_This chapter of Can't Be Both, as well as the rest of the story, has been beta'd by GrayWolf84. Thank you! _

_Also, I thank everyone for reviewing or adding the story to their favorite/alert list. _

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1<br>**

_Four days later_

„Hey."

Caffrey looks up at Jones, who is standing above him with a cup of water and plain sandwich bread.

„Scoot over," says Jones and sits down next to the conman, who reluctantly moves to the left side of the bench. Jones notices the wistful look in Caffrey's eyes as he longingly eyes the bread and the cup he is holding.

"Take it. It's for you," he says and presses both things into Caffrey's cuffed hands. Neal barely has the time to whisper one coarse "thank you" before he hungrily devours the sandwich and starts taking small sips of water. With the haunted look, the various bruises covering most of his body and the dirty, torn clothes, he looks almost nothing like the charming and proud Neal Caffrey Jones has come to know.

Not to forget the slight tremors running randomly through all Caffrey's body.

"Thanks again," says Caffrey when he finishes up and awkwardly looks away.

Even though Jones knows that this man is an accomplice to the theft of the Nazi treasure, that it is indirectly his fault that Peter's wife was kidnapped, and that he should now rightfully spend a long time behind bars, he can't help but feel a lot of sympathy for him. And he knows that while Neal has made a lot of shady decisions, he isn't a bad man. In fact, Jones would even go as far as to call him a friend. Which is why he is here, trying to offer some measly measure of support.

Caffrey certainly seems to need it.

"You look like crap," says Jones in an attempt to stir up conversation.

"Yeah?" chuckles Caffrey humorlessly. "I wouldn't have guessed."

All right, that probably wasn't a great opening line. But with everything that has happened, Jones really doesn't know what to say.

"What do you think is going on there?" he asks, motioning upwards to the closed door that is now hidden from their view.

"Wish I knew," says Neal tiredly. "On the other hand, probably not. Anyway, I'm sure the higher ups will fill me on the moment they're done."

Jones doesn't need Caffrey to spell it out for him. No matter how that makes Jones feel given the events of the past seventy-two hours, it is more than likely that Neal is going back to prison.

"I didn't want this," says Caffrey quietly. "The treasure… this wasn't supposed to happen."

No matter how sincere it sounds, it still makes Jones lift his eyebrows. "Honestly, how did you think it was gonna end?" he asks in disbelief.

Neal's only answer is a helpless shrug. "_Not_ like a disaster?"

At that, Jones can only laugh incredulously.

The sight of Caffrey's defeated form however cuts his laugh short.

"Hey, man. This is gonna work out," he says gently and places his hand loosely on Neal's shoulder.

"You really think that?" asks Neal doubtfully.

Honestly?

No, Jones doesn't think so. And seeing the wistful longing in Caffrey's eyes, knowing that he might soon have to testify against him makes him feel like the biggest bastard in the world.

"You saved Elizabeth's life," he states instead. "What you did was the craziest and most stupid thing I've ever heard of." Neal gives a weak chuckle at that. "But it worked," continues Jones seriously, "and man, it was also _completely amazing!_"

"It had to be done," says Caffrey quietly, but with a distinct certainty in his voice. "If I hadn't done it, Keller would have killed Elizabeth the moment he got the treasure."

"So you decided to sneak into his place, utterly alone and without any backup, through _miles_ of abandoned tunnels and sewer-pipes," says Jones, who even now is still feeling the absolute shock he experienced when they found just _how_ Caffrey got into Keller's hideout. "Why didn't you voice this plan to Hughes, Diana or me?" Because face it, Peter really wasn't on speaking terms with Neal right then… but Jones would have listened.

But when he looks at Neal's state, he knows the answer right away.

"It was _way_ too long a shot," says Caffrey tightly. "The whole system hasn't been in use for more than a century. There was no way to know what state everything was really in… Some of these pipes had sixty centimeters in diameter. No sane person would send his men there, not even somebody who could soon be sent to jail for life."

_Sixty centimeters… that's about twenty four inches…_Jones has heard that, he has even _seen_ the place where Caffrey crawled out, but it is still sending shivers through his whole body. "You could have died there," he says. "What if the air hadn't been breathable? What if the path had been blocked?"

"I was prepared," says Caffrey in cool blood. "I had a storage battery steel saw and a drill for any grates. Short of the tunnels collapsing, I was prepared to remove any obstacle in the way. And I did. As for the air… it was my risk to take."

Jones just shakes his head, trying to come in terms with Neal's words. "You were in there for _forty hours_ just with a hundred years old map, two tools, a torch, one bottle of water and two packages of cookies?"

"I needed to move fast. Any additional weight would just slow me down. I had nothing to lose, Jones," says Neal steadfastly. "When we located Keller, I had already given you all the information I could. You didn't need me once Mozzie was on the way. Even worse, if I remained, Keller would have continued playing those games with me, games that could have cost Elizabeth her life. If El died… Once I discovered these pipes existed, it was the easiest choice in the world."

The thing is, when Caffrey disappeared, all of them believed he had run. Sure, Jones had his doubts, but since the signal from Neal's tracker was lost and with the incriminating evidence… None of them knew that the GPS wasn't working because Neal was deep underground. They were sure Caffrey had selfishly taken the opportunity to escape from justice, knowing that he wouldn't be the FBI priority at least until Elizabeth Burke was recovered.

Imagine their surprise when Neal's signal suddenly reappeared inside Keller's place. This time, though, when an agent suggested that Neal might be possibly working with Keller, Diana fiercely jumped to Neal's defense, only to be proven right about twenty minutes later.

Neal's tracker didn't work in the pipes. If anything had gone wrong there, if he had suffocated, they wouldn't have even been able to locate his _corpse_.

Feeling slightly nauseous, Jones stares hard at the con next to him. "At least tell me you're not claustrophobic."

"My mother was," says Neal detachedly.

"_Christ_, Caffrey!"

"I knew I could do it," claims Neal calmly. "I have once allegedly entered somewhere through roughly hundred meters of similar system. The key is to be really set on your target."

"There is a huge freaking difference between hundred meters and several miles! How did you – "

"It was absolute hell," says Neal curtly and another tremble runs through his body. "Can we _please_ drop the subject of the pipes now?"

Anyone could tell that Caffrey isn't lying, even if judging just by the paleness of his face and his haunted look. No, Jones is sure Neal is absolutely sincere, which makes this nightmare even worse.

He gently squeezes Caffrey's shoulder.

"You did great," he says softly.

Caffrey sighs. "Jones – "

"No, really. When Keller hired those men, his hideout became untouchable if we didn't want to risk Elizabeth's life. But then you found her, overcame her guard and barricaded both of you in her room for long enough so that the SWAT team forced their way inside and captured Keller after you called us on the phone. If that is not amazing – "

"Like I've said, it had to be done."

They sit in silence after that.

"You want some more water?" asks Jones.

"That'd be great," whispers Caffrey and leans against the wall, his eyes closed, his head dropped on his shoulder.

Jones hesitates. He looks around.

"Stay here."

Neal doesn't even open his eyes. "Do you really think I'm a flight risk right now?"

Jones shrugs. "Force of habit. I've learned not to underestimate you."

"Good for you."

The answer makes Jones uneasy.

Suddenly, Caffrey stares at him in an intense way. "Jones. I stayed. I'm not gonna run now."

And that is, basically, the truth.

Jones leaves for the kitchen and pours water into Neal's cup. He also searches the fridge for something additional food. Unfortunately Neal has already eaten Clinton's own snack. He thinks about it a little, but then – screw it – he takes Diana's sandwich, making a mental note to tell her about it later.

He is sure she won't mind in this case.

Caffrey does, though.

"This is Diana's sandwich."

"Yeah, it was. I'll buy her another one."

"I'm not stealing Diana's food," says Neal flatly.

"Technically, that was me. I'll authorize it with her later."

"I can't eat that. She's gonna shoot me!"

Jones raises his eyebrows. "Somehow, I don't believe that after _not_ shooting you when you were supposedly a fleeting suspect, she would do that over a piece of bread and cheese. ... At worst, she'll break your arms and legs."

"That's really reassuring," says Neal, but then he ceases to resist and takes the sandwich from Jones. "If she shoots me, it's on your head," he says before he finally starts taking quick, but dignified bites.

Jones is certain Caffrey is ready to hide the incriminating object if Diana comes into sight. It almost makes him laugh, except he knows that if the talk in the conference room doesn't go extremely well, this might be the last time he sees Caffrey on an occasion like this.

Caffrey finishes the water and eats all the "evidence".

"So now we're officially accomplices to the theft of Diana's lunch," says Neal with a small grin. "Is it a criminal offense to corrupt an FBI agent?"

"Probably," replies Jones with a tight smile of his own.

Neither of them is really enjoying the joke.

Suddenly, Jones feels a strong wave of anger against Caffrey. He wants to yell at him or shake him, because Caffrey should have kept his damned nose clean, and instead he got involved in all this crap.

He is angry, because despite being a thief and conman, Neal is not a bad person. He has Jones questioning everything he ever believed in, he turned their lives upside down and he is Jones's friend, and if Jones could cover up the evidence, which he can't, he would be sorely tempted, which is completely, utterly _wrong_.

He is angry because he can't really do a thing to help, except talking to his superiors and talking to Neal now.

And feeding him.

Or maybe Jones is angry because he sees that Neal _is_ changing, that he is trying to leave his past behind, just not quick and soon enough. He is angry because he wants Caffrey to become an upstanding citizen and it doesn't just miraculously happen overnight. Whatever Caffrey's involvement was with the treasure (because they still haven't heard his own full confession), he stayed and didn't run, not after his confrontation with Peter, not even when he could have after Elizabeth Burke was rescued.

Just as it came, the anger leaves and it is replaced with a feeling of hollowness.

"So, now that we know about the treasure," starts Jones after a while, "there's something I wanted to ask you about."

Caffrey subconsciously chafes his wrists that are smarting from the cuffs. "Ask away."

"You remember the case just a few days after the warehouse exploded, with the man who wanted to smuggle his sixty million out of the city," says Jones with a hint of question.

Neal gives him a careful look. "Lawrence? Yes, I remember. We wanted to arrest him at the port."

"Except that I had been discovered," finishes Jones for him. "And he would have killed me, except – "

" – I suggested we use you as leverage and told him about the plane," recalls Caffrey. "So, now you want to know if the plane had something to do with the treasure."

"Something like that, yes."

Caffrey closes his eyes and leans against the wall without saying anything.

Jones watches the lines in his face, the sheer misery, guilt and _exhaustion_ that's written there, and he decides to cut him some slack. "All right, I won't pry. And I'm grateful that you saved my life that day."

At that, Neal's eyes open and he stares at him. "No," he says softly. "No, _I_ am grateful. I think I've subconsciously been grateful since maybe a week or two after the incident. If you hadn't been in danger that day… I might have done something I would have regretted for the rest of my life."

It is as close as one can get to a confession with Neal Caffrey, and frankly, Jones is flattered. It was one thing when Caffrey confessed about the treasure when Mrs. Burke's life was on line. It is another thing altogether when he does it now.

Jones should maybe care that Caffrey has just admitted in not so many words that he intended to run, but he knows that in the end, the man made the right choice, and that is enough for him.

"Do you regret it now?" he asks curiously.

He can see this really gives Caffrey a pause.

"If I had run," he starts shakily, before he hesitates. "If I had run, then Keller would have never kidnapped Elizabeth."

Jones wants to somehow oppose that, but he feels Neal isn't done yet, so he keeps quiet.

"But that could have been prevented if I had been honest about the treasure. Which would have meant to betray Mozzie's trust in one way or another, but then I've still lost that. Worse, Moz is now on the run."

That was one of the ugly things during the whole Nazi treasure fiasco and Elizabeth's kidnapping. It took all Neal's and the FBI's resourcefulness to contact Mozzie. When Mozzie learned about Elizabeth, he was willing to part with the treasure, but only after the FBI gave in to his demand that he wouldn't be prosecuted. Jones had been angered just like the rest of them, even after Neal pointed out that Mozzie wasn't meaning harm, but that it was just a part of his paranoid nature and need to protect himself.

He was proven right three days later when Mozzie led them to the treasure despite being denied immunity. Of course, by then Neal was already gone on his own rescue mission.

Jones knows that Neal's relationship with Mozzie is another thing that will definitely be held against Neal. He remembers how his friend Jimmy was arrested not so long ago and knowing how hard it was, he can't help but feel for Neal – and Peter.

Peter, the equally tragic figure in this whole mess, who _still_ had to personally cuff Neal only moments after he hugged his rescued wife.

"If you could do it all over again…?" asks Jones.

"I still wouldn't run," says Neal quietly, but his voice is firm.

"That's good to know."

"Of course, that answer might change in a year or two after they send me back," murmurs Neal, and Jones pats his shoulder.

There is this silence again.

"June has offered to pay for my lawyer," says Neal after a while. "She also said my room will be waiting for me in her house as long as she is alive, and afterwards I could turn to her granddaughter Cindy."

Jones once more wishes that the Nazi treasure had never been found at all.

Neal sneaks up a glance at the office upstairs, where they are deciding his fate, and bites his lip, his conman's masks lost sometime during the past few days.

"Hey, don't give up," says Jones. "I know for a fact that Diana will speak up for you, and so will I. Even Peter has calmed down considerably."

"I knew about the treasure, I messed with evidence, I forged the Degas and betrayed Peter's trust," replies Neal. "No matter what else I did, I can't really see a way out of this."

"Neal – "

"Jones?" calls Diana from the stairs. "You're wanted up there."

"Got to go," says Jones and starts standing up, when Neal's hand stops him in movement. He gives him a curious look.

"Thank you," whispers Neal. "You and Diana… that means a lot to me. So… thanks."

"You're welcome," says Jones sincerely before Caffrey reluctantly nods and let go of his suit.

As he goes up, he feels Caffrey's eyes on him, knowing that Jones is about to fight for his freedom.


	3. Chapter 2

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

_This whole story has been beta'd by GrayWolf84. _

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 2<strong>

"He saved my life," repeats Elizabeth for the umpteenth time, trying to make these men understand that thief or not, Neal Caffrey still deserves a second (third) ((or fourth, really)) chance. If only Peter would _say_ something, instead of sitting there and nearly painfully clutching her hand, afraid that she will somehow disappear into thin mist!

"Matthew Keller stated numerous times that he was going to kill me after he got the treasure. He was only keeping me alive until Mozzie arrived and the exchange was arranged."

"I think you have made your point, Mrs. Burke," says Hughes kindly. "And we aren't doubting Caffrey's actions of the past few days. However, he was still involved in the theft of the Nazi treasure – "

"So he gets a commendation for helping me before he is sent back to jail for the rest of his life," says Elizabeth with barely hidden disgust.

Peter finally breaks from his shell-shock state and looks at her. "Honey – "

"Don't "honey" me, Peter." Elizabeth frees herself from her husband's hold and gets up from the chair. "Forgive me, gentlemen," she says crisply. "I believe I've already answered all your questions. If you'll excuse me now, I need some air." Before she does something stupid like shouting at them and uselessly destroys Peter's career for good.

It has only been a few hours since her rescue. She still remembers the powerful relief when Neal appeared in her room, barricaded the door, got her out of her restrains and called the FBI for help. She also remembers the two minutes of deadly, mind-breaking fear, when she was cowering in the corner, Neal was standing weaponless in front of her, ready to die in her defense, and Keller's men were trying to break through the door, right until they heard the magical words – _"FBI! FREEZE AND DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"_

A huge part of her just wants to find some calm place, envelop her arms around Peter and cry a bit after the trauma she went through. But when Elizabeth saw Peter slapping cuffs on Neal and heard all the details, she immediately knew that breaking down would have to wait until the young conman's situation was resolved.

Elizabeth respects law and realizes it is there to protect people, but right now, all she can think of is how utterly _wrong_ it will be if Neal gets locked away for decades just because he didn't want to let down an old friend and because he couldn't immediately resist the temptation that many other men would have succumbed to.

Moreover, Elizabeth knows that if Neal falls, her husband will never be the same, because no matter how angry Peter is with Neal right now, he has also come to love him like family.

When an agent later offers her a blanket and a comfortable chair to sit on, Elizabeth hides her face behind her palms and silently starts to cry.

o - o - o

Neal is sitting on the bench and waiting.

It would take him ten seconds to get out of the cuffs. Less than a minute to get out of the building. An hour later he is at an airport, tomorrow in Asia or Europe – or maybe Africa; there are certainly a few places where he could hide for the time being.

Except, that would be for the rest of his life.

Which is one of the reasons that Neal is still in the room with his hands laid tamely in his lap, staring at the door and waiting, hoping against hope that _somehow_, _somebody_ will offer him a lifeline that doesn't include spending the rest of his life behind bars.

Besides, even though his basic instincts are screaming at him to run, he can't do that to Jones, Diana, June, and Elizabeth.

And Peter. Especially Peter.

Neal fears there is no way to save his friendship with Peter – and _damn_, that hurts so much he almost can't breathe – but he dares to imagine that someday, Peter will realize he never wanted Elizabeth to get hurt. Maybe then… well, Neal doesn't even know what he is really hoping for, but he knows for sure that he simply _can't_ make things worse with Peter, because somehow, Peter's opinion of him has become one of the most important things in Neal's life.

Sadly, Neal fears he has already done enough damage to last him for a lifetime.

Some time later, Diana exits the room. She walks down to him with a tight smile in her face, which makes Neal grateful, knowing that there is another person who looks at him with something besides pain or contempt.

"I ate your sandwich," he says instead of greeting.

"Yeah, I know. Jones told me. They're taking a small break now, Jones is bringing them coffee. They want you up there in ten minutes," says Diana with a sigh.

Neal's mouth goes dry. "And, how…"

Diana drags a chair opposite him and sits down. "It doesn't look good," she says without preamble. "Neal, I know you're probably trying to protect your friend, but you need to tell us the truth. We already have enough evidence to put Mozzie away for a long time. There's hardly something you could say that would incriminate him even further. But if there's something, anything, that could help to reduce the charges against you, you need to tell us."

"I can't. Diana, I can't talk against Mozzie – "

"Neal, are you daft?" exclaims Diana, causing a few people to look their way. "Look, I understand he's your friend. But he's already in over his head – "

"He saved my life, Diana."

Neal sees that the agent is momentarily taken aback.

"What happened?" she asks at last.

"A job or two went wrong," says Neal. "Obviously, I couldn't go to a hospital, or there would have been questions. If not for Moz, I would have long ago been dead or in prison. And he helped me – many times, and not just with my work. For years, he was there for me as a friend. My _only_ friend."

"I understand," says Diana softly.

Neal raises his cuffed hands and shakily pushes away a lock of his hair.

"Well, then what about Peter?" asks Diana suddenly.

Neal is taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"If they charge you with First Degree Grand Larceny – and they will – that's twenty five years in prison. Combined with the forgery of the Degas – "

"I'll be imprisoned for decades. I get it," says Neal with constricted throat. "But what does that have to do with Peter?"

"He was your supervisor," explains Diana. "He _probably_ won't lose his job, but it will forever be there in people's minds. But if that's not enough for you…just _look_ at him. He was already forced to arrest you. If you really stole the treasure and lied to him, then you don't deserve his friendship. But if you didn't, or if there is anything that could soften the blow for him, then you owe him the truth. Otherwise you're breaking his heart for nothing."

Now Neal feels even worse and completely helpless.

"Diana…"

"Peter put a lot of things on the line for you, Neal. Don't screw it up even worse than you already did."

Neal swallows.

"I – I need to use the bathroom," he says quietly.

Diana gives him a sharp look. "What – "

"I just want to clean up a bit," interrupts Neal softly. "I swear I won't try anything. I just – I need a minute – "

"Blake?" calls Diana across the room.

The younger agent comes to them.

"Take Caffrey to the bathroom."

Blake touches Neal's arm, who giddily stands up and almost loses his balance because of the long sitting and his exhaustion. Diana catches him before he falls, and then steadies him as Neal tries to regain control of his body.

"Thank you, Diana," says Neal and tries to make her understand that it is not just for catching him right now.

Judged by her expression, she understands. "Don't mention it." She looks at her wristwatch. "You have five minutes."

"Okay," says Neal and lets Blake accompany him to the bathroom.

And he realizes he has absolutely no idea what to do next.

o - o - o

As Reese Hughes suggests the break and Agent Jones leaves for the coffee, Agent Kramer walks to the glass and looks down where Caffrey sits alone in the handcuffs.

The kid looks… lost. And defeated.

Kramer watches as Agent Barrigan brings her chair across Caffrey and as they talk. Even from the distance, it's obvious that they're closer than just as an Agent and a CI or a suspect. During the short time of his stay before Peter's wife was kidnapped, Kramer came to know that Caffrey was friendly with almost all the White Collar division. He still stands by what he's said to Peter – Caffrey obviously wants to be there.

Seeing the young conman in handcuffs brings back painful memories.

Kramer thinks of the day roughly thirteen years ago, when his own CI was pretty much in the same position as Caffrey now. George had been a young thief and forger, just a few months short of twenty-five, when Kramer took him under his wing. He was Kramer's third CI, but unlike the previous two, he was much more charming, naive and innocent – as much as a conman can be. They had been working together for almost a year, when George's sister Lisa – an "alleged" criminal – got into trouble with the mob. She needed money.

They pulled off two burglaries until they were caught.

The worst thing wasn't that George broke his trust and used his relative freedom to commit more crimes. Of course that left Kramer angry, disappointed and feeling betrayed, yet he was still willing to help his CI as much as he could. George was after all a friend, and while he disapproved, Kramer could understand George's fear for his sister.

They offered him a deal.

George refused to take any responsibility for his actions.

In the disaster that followed, George had been sentenced to six years in prison.

He was incarcerated again just eight months after his release and convicted of a jewelry heist, this time for eleven years. That happened five years ago.

Kramer shakes his head to put the old ghosts back to sleep, and instead looks back down at Caffrey.

Barrigan has just called a young agent to come over to them.

As Caffrey stands up, Kramer is startled when the man stumbles and Barrigan catches him.

Kramer wonders if he is now seeing the beginning of a con or an escape attempt. However, for some reason, he doubts that that is the case.

Kramer has to admit that Caffrey intrigues him.

Just from observing him and asking a few questions here or there, he has determined that Caffrey is, indeed, extremely smart, just as Peter told him. Judging by Elizabeth Burke's rescue and by the tales that are flying around the bureau, Caffrey is also fearless and has more balls than some agents that Kramer knows personally. He has proven himself to have an exceptional ability to keep a cool head in tough situations. While a few of Caffrey's schemes were borderline insane, most have turned out be completely brilliant.

Caffrey is charming, bold, evasive, smart, annoying and very skillful, and he has _some_ sort of morals, even if they are a little distorted. Kramer can certainly understand what draws Peter to this man so much.

For Peter's sake, Kramer hopes Caffrey will use his smarts well today.

He doesn't want his friend to suffer through the hell of anguish and self-doubt he himself went through when the George's emails from prison started to arrive.

o - o - o

Under Blake's watchful eye, Neal washes his face and hands and tries to rearrange his tangled mess of hair to look somewhat presentable.

His black turtleneck shirt has a tear at the shoulder and another at the chest. It looks dirty, just like the rest of his clothes. Neal is now glad he bought his casual pants for this occasion, because he wouldn't have liked any of his usual clothes to be ruined this way. First thing after he gets home, he's throwing them to the trash.

_That is, if he gets to go home. Which is extremely improbable, so it's possible that the pants will have a longer life after all – _

Damn it if Neal knows what to do.

He is still just as clueless when they exit the bathroom and Diana leads him up to the conference room.

There's Hughes, Kramer, Peter, Jones, two of their other agents and an agent that Neal doesn't know.

Diana removes his handcuffs and Neal warily takes the seat they offered him.

He is battling his exhaustion, and the lack of sleep is causing him to be on edge.

But that is good. On edge is fine. On edge will keep him from making stupid mistakes.

"Are you sure this is the right time for this?" asks the unknown man with a frown. "Caffrey is obviously in a bad condition right now. If we do this, his attorney might accuse us of interrogating him under duress."

"I'm fine," says Neal forcefully. Noticing their disbelieving stares, he insists: "Really, I am. Though I could do with some coffee…"

Jones gets him a cup before anyone has a chance to protest. Neal gratefully accepts it and drinks it down in two huge gulps. The throbbing in his head subsides a little and the pain sort of shifts.

"All right," says Hughes. "Everybody except for Agent Kramer, Jones and Caffrey, please leave now – "

"No, wait – Diana, Peter!"

Diana stops while Peter has already left the room.

"Can't Diana and Peter be here?" asks Neal quickly.

Diana looks at Hughes and Neal in indecision.

Hughes frowns. "This is unusual – "

"Please, sir, I want them here."

"This goes against the standard procedures – "

"They have a right to be here, sir," says Neal softly, but firmly. "Both Diana and Jones are the closest to me on the team; besides, she's been involved in this. She should hear this."

"Neal, it's alright," says Diana. "I can watch the recording later – "

"But I want you here," he says. He doesn't voice aloud that he needs at least some half-friendly faces in this room.

Diana evidently understands, though, because she looks at Hughes and asks: "Sir, would that be possible?"

Hughes sighs. "Very well. If Caffrey is sure…"

"I am."

"Alright, Barrigan. Now, if we can start – "

"What about Peter?" interrupts Neal again.

Hughes frowns. "I can't in good conscience allow his presence. Peter is too close to this; besides, he hit you a few days ago – "

"I deserved that," says Neal quickly. "Please sir, I need him to hear this. _Peter_ needs to hear this."

Hughes sighs again. "Caffrey – "

"I let him down, sir," says Neal quietly. "The least he deserves are the answers about how and why it happened."

"Can you honestly tell me his presence here won't intimidate you?" asks Hughes.

'_Define intimidate'_ – Neal stops himself just in time.

"I'm not afraid of Peter," he says instead.

Silence.

"Sir, please. _Please_ let him be here."

Hughes still looks unconvinced.

Neal is at shorts about what else to say. He has all but begged on his knees to press his point – and if he thought it had even a minimal chance of success, he would have tried that, too.

Suddenly, Kramer raises from his seat. "I'll go fetch him," he says, and he and Hughes exchange a look before Hughes finally nods.

"Thank you," says Neal quietly to the room.

Then they wait.

Ten minutes later, Kramer is back and Peter wordlessly takes a seat next to him.

Hughes gives Neal a pointed look. "Are you satisfied? Can we start now?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you very much."

Hughes pulls out a paper and coughs before he starts reading: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. If you start answering questions now, you can stop at any time. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to us?

Neal hesitates.

They have little direct proof that they could use against him. On the other hand, he was one of the few people who knew about the treasure, his alibi won't hold, he has proven that he knew about the treasure's location after the theft and a part of his painting was found at the crime scene (though that evidence is now destroyed, and he was careful with the cameras when replacing the scraps… but if they investigate, they will see him enter the building, Cindy might become involved and Neal doesn't want that).

There is also the matter of the stolen Degas, which – despite the brilliance of the original plan – is now about to come back to bite Neal in a very bad way. After all, it would take the FBI maybe fifteen minutes to pull his anklet's data and find some irregularities… two, three hours before they found out that he might not have been locked up in the room the whole time… and let them investigate further, they are bound to find someone who saw his whole little parachuting escapade.

Neal quietly concedes it doesn't look good at all.

However…

Last time, they had some pretty good evidence against him, and yet not even a tenth of it held up in the court. True, his charm won't help him as much because he is a convict now; however, with a good lawyer at his side, Neal might yet be able to perform a miracle.

"Can I take a look at that again?" he stalls for time and points to the statement of his Miranda rights in front of Hughes.

Wordlessly, Hughes offers the paper to him. Neal reaches for it and takes it, but not before he briefly crosses his eyes with Peter.

The brief second of contact makes Neal's stomach churn and his hands almost start shivering again.

Because all the reasons above mean very little. In fact, it all comes to a very simple choice: to remain a con, or to become a man.

The choice being simple doesn't make it easy.

In a split-second decision that has been brewing in him for months, Neal grabs the pen from the table and quickly signs the document.

"I understand. And I'm willing to make a confession."

He truly isn't at his best form right now; far from it. He might even regret it later. Most likely, he _will_ regret not having his lawyer with him here. But right now, Neal feels the overwhelming need to do this, to turn over a new leaf before… whatever. Before he changes his mind. Or loses his will. Or aliens invade the FBI office.

_Whatever._ Just do it now.

Diana accepts the document from him and passes it back to Hughes.

Then the old agent begins the questioning.

"All right Caffrey. What can you tell us concerning the theft of the U-boat treasure?"

"I… "And Neal's mouth goes dry all over again.

Is he _really_ doing this?

"I have the right to remain silent, right? Whenever I want, I can stop this."

"That's right," says Kramer with a small nod. "You can stop whenever you want, or you can ask for your attorney. That's perfectly within your rights."

Neal stares at them without a word.

"Neal," says Diana pleadingly after a minute of silence, but it's Peter's quiet voice that cuts right through him.

"I trusted you, Neal."

He still doesn't even look at Neal. And suddenly, that breaks the dam of Neal's emotions and all the things he has kept cooped up in the last days – weeks, months – now flow to the surface.

"You _trusted_ me? _You_ trusted me? That sounds rich from you, Peter! There we were, barely minutes after the explosion, after Adler nearly shot me, and what was the first thing on your lips? 'You did this, Neal!' You had no doubts; you just blamed me for it without any hesitation! And I didn't even know why! I almost died, and then you, my _friend_…" Neal's voice breaks as he battles the feelings of rage, grief and guilt.

"I didn't steal the art, Peter. And I've told you over and over again, but you never listened! Instead you interrogated me, watched me, hoped for the proof that I was guilty – "

He suddenly notices the look that Hughes casts at Peter and immediately shuts up.

"If you didn't do it," says Hughes and turns his attention back to Neal, "tell us what really happened."

Neal is already regretting his outburst. His hands are shaking and he can almost feel the room closing up on him. He firmly clasps his hands together and interlaces his fingers, so that he can hide his emotions better.

He takes a deep breath.

"I apologize for the yelling," he says with as much calm as he can muster.

Peter finally looks at him. "I'm your supervisor, Neal. It's part of my job to be suspicious – "

"I get that," says Neal softly.

"I don't think you do."

"No, I _do_," insists Neal quietly. He lets out a shaky sight. After their horrible argument and the subsequent silent treatment of the past days, he can't even begin to describe his feelings now that Peter is _finally_ talking to him again. "I know you're also my friend. I should have told you."

Peter gives him a tight nod and looks away again.

"Neal, you need to tell us what happened," says Jones unobtrusively.

"I don't know if my lawyer would advise me to do that," stalls Neal, and then he shuts up.

His lawyer. _Mozzie_. This whole mess –

"Caffrey," growls Diana warningly and Neal's mind jump back into the game.

Right. He's in the room with five agents who mean business and are impatiently waiting for the confession he promised them. By now, even Diana looks a bit pissed off, and Jones seems to be developing a migraine.

He might still be able to lie his way out of most of this mess. After all, only Peter knows about his burned paintings, and there is no other evidence that would confirm he knew about the theft from nearly the beginning. And there is this chance that maybe Peter wouldn't tell, or wouldn't be able to prove that the paintings used were truly his, or that this kind of evidence will generally be considered inadmissible –

Neal internally shakes his head. He takes a shaky breath before he starts to talk.

"I've already told you I didn't steal the art. However, I've kept a few things out – a lot of things." This is his last chance to stop. "When I came home after the warehouse explosion, I found a key and a note…"

o - o - o

"Mr. Caffrey, are you telling us that you purposely destroyed evidence to a Federal investigation?"

"_No_, I'm telling you that I – " -

Diana can tell that Neal's frustration is growing. Fortunately, Neal stops himself just in time, possibly biting his tongue before saying something idiotic.

She can't even say that she blames Caffrey for his frustration. It has been almost twenty minutes and they are obviously still barely at the beginning of the story. Neal takes a deep breath and wills his tone back to politeness.

"Forgive me sir. Yes, it is true. I exchanged the scraps of the paintings because I knew the original would be identified as my own work. Given my history, I thought nobody would believe me if I tried to tell them I was innocent."

"Which you weren't."

"Actually, I'd say I was, right up to that point," says Neal calmly. "I didn't do anything except for not reporting the treasure's location right away, of which I found out two days before I replaced the scrap of the painting. I believe that if it was any other citizen without a criminal past, no one would blame him for taking two days before reporting something like this, _especially_ given the fact that their friend was involved in the theft."

When put like that, Diana has to agree Caffrey is right. But…

"However, you didn't report the treasure's location two days later," says Agent Kramer. "In fact, you didn't report it at all."

"I know," replies Neal with a painful smile. "I said I _was_ innocent, right until then." He pauses before he speaks quietly. "I don't deny I messed up. I'm just trying to put a timeline to how much and why."

'_Messed up.'_ It's a nice euphemism, that's for sure. Diana can tell right now that this is going to be a very, _very_ long – not to mention unconventional – interview. She just wonders who it is harder for; for Neal to speak about it, or for Peter to sit there and listen.

"So you replaced the pieces out of fear that you wouldn't be believed," states Hughes with just a hint of question.

Neal frowns. "I guess… I didn't really think about it that much. It was more of… an instinct? Force of habit?" Suddenly, he chuckles. "In the past, I always used to cover any tracks that could implicate me, and I was really good at it… allegedly, that is. I was – ow!"

Under the table, Diana kicks Caffrey to shut him up before he says something even worse.

Jones obviously shares the sentiment. "With all respect sir, I don't think it is right to question Caffrey right now. He hasn't slept or properly eaten in two days –" _("Th- Three days," half-yawns Caffrey.)_ " - and the accuracy of his answers is bound to be affected."

Meaning, they should stop Neal before he does irreparable damage to his case.

"I second that, sir," Diana finds herself speaking.

Hughes starts standing up. "All right. Let's postpone this talk – "

"Please, don't."

The quiet words from Caffrey catch them all by surprise.

"Neal, are you all right?" asks Peter with a hint of worry, and Diana almost wants to kiss him for it.

"Let's finish this," says Neal in a strange mixture of authority and pleading.

"You don't have to – "

"I need to do this now, Peter," replies Neal in the same quiet tone. "Diana, Jones – let me do this. I can handle it. I promise I'll take it seriously. I – can't wait for who-knows how long with all this hanging over me. Let's finish this up."

The agents look at each other. "All right," says Kramer and Hughes sits back down.

Diana doesn't miss Caffrey's relieved sigh.

"Neal, can you tell us what happened after you switched the painting scraps?" asks Jones gently.

Neal gulps down another cup of coffee before he starts again.

o - o - o

"Whoa whoa whoa, go back here. How did you find out about the manifest?"

Neal wants to groan. Of course that Peter simply _has_ to ask this kind of questions.

He pretends to think about it before he shrugs. "Simple. I have my ways."

"That's not an answer," says Hughes frowningly.

Neal shrugs again. "It's the only one I have, sir."

"What are you hiding this time?" asks Peter.

"Nothing. Everything. Take your pick." Neal is suddenly feeling reckless. "I've told you; I'm damn good at what I do. I noticed something was going on; I poked around, I found the truth. That's all."

"You're covering for someone."

Only the years of experience from running cons prevent Neal from reacting to Kramer's sharp, accusing tone. He is strongly taken aback that someone has put the pieces together so quickly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," says Neal blankly.

"Were they working with you?" asks Kramer again. Neal realizes the agent won't let it go until he receives at least _some_ answer.

"_If_," he starts. "If – and this scenario is just a theory – someone hypothetically revealed the information to me, it would have been by accident and not really their fault. But since this is only a _theory_, there is no way to tell what really happened."

No way in hell will Neal implicate Agent Melissa Matthews. Melissa may not be exactly Neal's type, but he has come to respect her after she admitted her defeat at his hand and didn't report him, displaying an interesting mixture of fairness, forwardness and even sense of humor.

She seemed like an okay person; besides, Neal owes her after conning her. The least he can do is make sure Melissa stays out of the trouble _he_ pulled her into.

"Who was it?" asks Diana curiously, but there is an undertone to it – no doubt she wonders if it was her or Peter who let it slip that the manifest existed to Neal.

"I refuse to answer this question."

"Mr. Caffrey – "

Neal stares firmly at Hughes when he repeats: "I _refuse_ to answer this question."

"Do you realize that the prosecutor might want to use your refusal to draw conclusions against you during the trial?" asks Kramer.

"I understand completely. I'm still not answering the question."

"If you avoid answering some of our questions, it might put the rest of your statements in a shady light – "

"Can we skip this?" snaps Neal impatiently. "Because now you can try to persuade me to tell you a name while I'll continue to refuse to comply. We will dance about it for half an hour until either you give up, or I decide to call my attorney. I've been on both sides of this before. I'm not gonna slip. Would it rather be possible to move on?"

There is icy silence.

It was a brilliant expression of boldness, disrespect, defiance and resolve. Neal only prides himself on the last one.

He feels another wave of pain as his exhaustion is catching up with him. He rubs his eyes before he even realizes he is doing so.

"I apologize if that sounded impolite," he says in a not-so-good attempt to minimize the damage.

In the end, it is Jones who breaks the silence. "What did you do with the knowledge of the manifest's existence, then?"

Neal clasps his hands together under the table and ponders how to best answer that. He will definitely leave out the unsuccessful attempts; he might be stupid enough to confess, but not that stupid to tell them more than what they're likely to find out anyway. He hopes Diana won't put two and two together, or that if she does, she will keep the knowledge to herself and maybe only break his legs later when they are in private.

But the successful attempt… that is a completely different matter altogether.

Neal has rarely felt shame for any of his many crimes, but this time, he feels his cheeks turning dark as he stares at the hands in his lap.

Maybe now is the right time to execute his right to remain silent?

"When we found out about the manifest, we tried to search for it," confesses Neal quietly, avoiding everyone's eyes. "Then I discovered its location." His voices level drops to a near whisper. "I went to get it. Peter, I… "

How the hell is he supposed to tell Peter he has violated his trust like that?

"I made a copy of the key to your safe. Then I broke into your home."


	4. Chapter 3

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story, now dealing with Neal's confession. Neal has told Peter about breaking into his home.

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 3<strong>

"I can't believe it."

"Peter…"

Peter points his finger at Neal. "After everything we went through. _You_ broke into my house!"

"Peter, I'm – "

"No. I don't want to hear it."

"I know it was really stupid – "

"Damn right it was!" snaps Peter angrily. He can't believe that not so long ago, he thought that Neal was finally growing up and leaving his criminal past behind. "My _home_, Neal! Is there nothing sacred you would really respect?"

"Peter I wish I could take it back – "

"No you don't."

"Yes I do!"

Peter snorts.

"I do, Peter," insists Neal pleadingly. "If I could go back to that day – "

"You would have done it just the same," accuses him Peter. "Try and tell me you wouldn't do it again, if you could avoid getting caught."

"I wouldn't! I swear I wouldn't – "

"Why."

Neal gives him a blank look.

"You're telling you wouldn't do it again?" says Peter.

Neal bites his lips.

"Then give me just one reason why. One reason, Neal – just one damn reason why should I believe that you've changed your mind."

Neal sighs. "Because you're my friend. Were my friend."

Peter raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

"And you didn't realize that until you broke into my house?"

"Not… fully. Not until you called me."

Peter furrows his eyebrows. "Called you…?"

"You remember the night after the van Horn case? Elizabeth was on an art exhibit, you were at the stakeout – "

"And _you_ were apparently breaking into my home," growls Peter angrily. "Was that the reason why you didn't want to do the stakeout? So that you could commit your nice little burglary?"

"And here I thought my offer saved you from maiming your fingers with a hammer," says Jones in an attempt at humor. Peter shoots him a poisonous glare.

"It did," says Neal to Jones. "Believe me; my hatred of stakeouts is true and genuine."

"There _is_ such a thing with you?" asks Peter sarcastically.

Neal starts to answer, but Peter interrupts him. "Forget it. So, you used the opportunity to get the manifest. What supposedly changed?"

"Did you plant the photo here in case I broke in?" asks Neal.

Now it's Peter's face that turns blank. "What photo?"

Neal sighs. "I really don't want to violate your privacy anymore – "

"Well that's the first time!" shouts Peter angrily and punches the table. He doesn't even realize he is standing until Kramer gently pulls him down.

"What was on the damn photo," asks Peter when he collects himself enough to speak calmly.

"The team," says Neal quietly. "All the agents from our division on an anniversary photo, from before we found the treasure. And…" he swallows before he adds quietly, "and I was in the middle of it. Right next to you."

Peter wants to retort something sarcastic, but then he looks at Neal, _really_ looks at him.

The conman looks absolutely worn out. It seems he has aged ten years since the day El was kidnapped. But the worst thing is the desperate expression in his blue, teary eyes.

Right then, Peter hates Neal like nobody else in the universe. Because he desperately wishes for Neal's remorse to be genuine – but he doesn't know. He. Just. Doesn't. Know.

He really wants to believe that their friendship meant something, that this all hasn't been just an extremely elaborate con from Neal's part. But how can he trust Neal – how can he trust his own judgment – after everything that has happened?

The hate is gone, replaced by an incredible sorrow.

"What happened next?" asks Peter.

"You called me," says Neal hoarsely. "You called – just after I took a photo of the manifest. And we talked, and – I couldn't do that anymore. I remembered the time before the treasure, when we were searching for Adler, when we trusted each other, and I realized that it was one of the happiest times in my life."

Peter watches, mesmerized, as the lone tear travels its way across Neal's cheek before Neal wipes it away.

"But you didn't act on it," says Kramer, and Peter is startled when he realizes they're not alone in the room. In fact, this is Neal's interrogation – and anything he says will be used against him in court.

Neal looks at Kramer and smiles. "But I did," he says. "When Mozzie called, I told him I didn't find the manifest."

Jones's eyebrows furrow. "I'm not sure I follow…"

"I do," says Peter when the full impact of Neal's confession settles in.

"I persuaded Moz we needed the manifest before we ran with the treasure," explains Neal. "So when he thought we didn't have it – "

" – he had to wait. So, you kept your friend, yet you didn't have to do anything about the treasure. Clever," says Diana.

Neal's expression turns grim. "Not so much," he admits. "I underestimated Mozzie's resolution. When we talked later, he said to forget the manifest, grab the treasure and run. I tried to tell him it was dangerous, but I think he saw right through me. He realized that I was having second thoughts. But I still hoped I could come up with a solution that wouldn't mean to run and to betray Mozzie… or to go back to jail."

Peter can now understand the dilemma Neal was facing. That, unfortunately, doesn't make his actions any less criminal.

"I _wanted_ to do the right thing," shrugs Neal helplessly. "But I was already deeply involved, and I didn't want to get Moz in trouble either. I tried to make plans… I considered an anonymous tip to the treasure's location, or outwaiting the statute of limitations before turning the treasure in – "

"Neither of which would have worked very well," says Peter.

Neal lets out a humorless chuckle. "I know. I was coming to the point when the treasure stopped being anything more that the epitome of all my troubles."

"You didn't want to keep it?" asks Hughes.

Neal's answer is serious and sincere. "I won't deny I was tempted at first – very tempted. All the paintings, the beauty, the – absolute _perfection_, on so many levels…" There's a dreamy undertone to Neal's voice, and Peter understands – not completely, but a little at least. Then Neal shakes his head and returns to the ground. "But the price for that all became too high. I realized I would have to choose between Moz and my life here. A man or a conman, you called it," he says to Peter. "But I still hoped – for a little more time, for a miraculous solution, for _something_ – "

"Did you at least consider confessing?" asks Peter.

"I did," says Neal immediately. Then he sighs. "But… well, it wasn't really high on the list."

The silence that follows is ominous.

"Well, what happened next?" asks Jones.

"Next…" Neal hits his forehead with his palm, rubs his eyes and suppresses a yawn. "Next, the articles about the treasure came out. Moz wanted to sell the Degas and run, I talked him out of it. Then Keller came."

"Time was running out," says Diana knowingly.

Neal laughs shakily. "You have no idea." He swallows. "Keller killed Mozzie's friend Hale. You know that I met Keller when I was undercover with Raquel Laroque. What I didn't tell you was that he blackmailed me to give him the treasure."

"But you didn't," says Kramer.

"No."

"Why not?" asks Kramer. "It would have rid you of your problem. You could even lie to your friend "Mozzie" that Keller threatened your life and you had no choice but tell him."

Neal shakes his head. "First of all, I could never lie like that to Moz. And second – do you know what kind of man Keller is? What kind of damage he could do with billions dollars?"

"No, I don't know."

"Well, neither do I!" says Neal forcefully. "And I damn well didn't want to find out! Trust me, I'd rather go to prison than know that he is somewhere out there with this kind of resources."

"I believe you're about to get your wish," says Kramer.

"Yes, I think I am," answers Neal roughly.

"Enough, Caffrey," interrupts Hughes before Peter has the chance to interfere. "I realize this is all a bit unusual, but could we at least try to keep the appearances that this is an interrogation and not a schoolboys' argument?"

"Of course," says Kramer and Peter watches as he withdraws back to his professional shell.

Hughes looks pointedly at to Neal.

Neal gives him a feeble grin. "Can I get some more coffee?"

o – o – o

"… then you interrogated me and I found out about the six million bounty," says Caffrey as he finishes describing his confrontation with Keller at the Palace and the subsequent talk with Peter.

"You didn't know before?" asks Peter.

"No. I didn't. But when you told me, I had my suspicions." Hughes watches as Caffrey intertwines his fingers and bites his lip. "I went home and I checked the treasure on the videocamera; specifically, the Degas painting that Mozzie wanted to sell before, that I knew had roughly the same prize."

"It was gone."

Caffrey nods into Diana's direction. "Yes. It was gone." He runs his hand through his hair. "I confronted Moz about it. He told me he sold it. I told him it was on the list and that we needed to get it back. We argued, then we decided to meet tomorrow. The next day, Moz gave me an ultimatum."

Hughes listens as Caffrey recalls the story of the Degas recovery; how he made the forgery, how he played the FBI agents, how his friend erased the phone calls from Rusty's cell, how he fooled Peter, replaced the painting and pulled the stupid stunt with a parachute in the middle of day.

This is _exactly_ the reason why Hughes was against Caffrey becoming Peter's CI in the first place.

Because, while Caffrey isn't a violent type of criminal, he is still causing damage right and left. Damage to Peter, damage to Hughes's department, damage to numerous people around him. And it seems that it is only now, after the fact, that Caffrey realizes the full extent of his actions' consequences.

Hughes would be blind or hypocritical if he told that Caffrey didn't bring anything worthy to the team. Thanks to him, many cases were finally solved. Also, the bureau has somehow become much more cheerful, and Hughes doesn't deny that some of Caffrey's charm and rule-bending attitude did Peter good as well.

But when he hears Caffrey's whole confession, and when he sees his people – _his agents_ – affected by Caffrey's "little" detour on his way to honesty, Hughes doubts that the _potential_ redemption of one conman is worth all this heartbreak.

There is no way Caffrey is getting out of this unscathed, Hughes knows. But if by some weird miracle he does, Hughes will fight tooth and nail against Peter taking Caffrey back – again. Because in Hughes's eyes, Caffrey has long ago exhausted his rights for another chance.

Hughes would rather have Peter detest him afterwards than see him even more heartbroken when Caffrey's luck finally runs out and he ends up in prison for thirty years or life.

It's not even that Hughes thinks Caffrey is ultimately a bad person. He is a thief, a forger and a liar, but there are some values – honest values – that Caffrey respects. His mad rescue attempt to safe Elizabeth Burke was just one demonstration of this side of Caffrey's personality. Yet even this rescue demonstrated just how unreliable Caffrey really is, when he disappeared alone, without a word except for one little note, instead of working within the boundaries as he very well should have.

Hughes can't really say he dislikes Caffrey. He will make sure the man gets a fair trial and he will go out of his way to guarantee Caffrey's safety in prison after his work for the FBI. But no matter what happens, Caffrey's job in his division is over. Hughes refuses to risk his people anymore at the expense of a criminal.

That is his decision and he will stand by it.

o – o – o

Neal finally finishes telling his story. Then the agents ask him some more questions that he answers, and he is told that tomorrow, they will make him aware of all the formal charges filed against him. Neal is pretty sure they will be numerous.

They make him wait outside while the agents discuss his case and Reese Hughes calls the Marshals. Back in cuffs, Neal is sitting on a chair and waiting.

He'd begun shaking again when he retold the story of El's rescue. By now, Neal isn't even sure if it is because of the claustrophobic memory, his body's exhaustion or the numerous coffees he has drunk in the past three hours. The interview has been very long and absolutely exhausting.

Some fifteen or twenty minutes into the talk, Neal completely gave up at trying to fabricate the details to make the truth appear more likeable. He hasn't been this honest for years, and he can't even imagine what _words_ Mozzie would use about choosing honesty when making a confession to the FBI. Neal thinks some of these words probably haven't even been invented yet.

Of course, Mozzie would probably kill him if he could see him right now.

Two good things came out of his confession. One – Peter is – more or less – talking to him again. Two – most of the blame (hopefully all) will now fall on him, not on Peter, Diana, Jones, Sara, June, Cindy, Agent Matthews or any of the other people he might have implicated.

Unfortunately, that's where the good news are about to end.

Hughes finishes his call and they call him back inside.

"You can go now, Caffrey. Agents Jones and Barrigan will drive you home."

Neal drops his jaw. "What?" he asks in disbelief.

Hughes is frowning, but he explains nevertheless: "From now on, you are under house arrest. You will be informed about the date of your parole revocation hearing and about the details concerning your trial. Do you have any questions?"

Neal is still amazed they're not sending him back to prison right away. "No, sir," he replies sincerely. "Thank you for the trust."

Hughes's frown doesn't diminish. "We are giving you this chance because of your willingness to cooperate and because you recently demonstrated you wouldn't run," he says. "It wasn't easy to persuade the Marshals. If you run, this will be on my head, as well as several more people in this division. Do _not_ break this trust."

"I won't, sir. I swear."

Still wide-eyed and feeling very much confused, Neal follows Jones and Diana out of the room. After they uncuff him, Jones helps him pick up the things at his table and gently straightens him up once or twice when he almost falls on their way to the elevators.

As the elevator's door closes behind them, Neal crumples up on its floor.

"CAFFREY!" shouts Diana in alarm.

She immediately kneels down to him. "Are you okay?"

Neal's elbow hurts and he has also hit his head, but he gives Diana a feeble grin. "I'm fine," he whispers weekly. "No need to pretend… with the two of you."

"Neal, you need to get up," says Diana worriedly and puts her arm under his shoulder while Jones does the same at Neal's other side. "What if someone calls this elevator?"

Neal yawns. "I'm ti-tired," he whines, and to his horrible embarrassment he realizes he is near to tears.

"Hey, man," says Jones soothingly. "You can do this for a little longer, okay? Just help us get you up."

"I don't want to, Jones," whispers Neal. Then a sob escapes his lips. "I just want to r-rest…"

"You will," promises Jones. "When we get to the car, you can rest all you want. But I need you to hold on now, just for a few minutes. Can you do that?" he asks gently.

Neal stubbornly shakes his head. "I don't want to – "

"Okay, that's enough, Caffrey," says Diana harshly. "Get your ass of the floor, _now_! Or I'll pick up another area to kick you to, and this time it will be someplace more _private_!"

Neal's eyes widen at the threat as he remembers the numerous bruises that are undoubtedly already forming on his shins (although, to be fair, Diana's aggressive treatment has prevented him from making several _unnecessary_ confessions up there, for which he's very thankful).

His _privates_ on the other hand…

"Help me up, please?" he whispers hoarsely.

With Diana's and Jones's help, he is finally standing again, although his back is leaning against the wall of the elevator and he is still shaking all over.

"Thank you," says Neal quietly to both of his coworkers, who have demonstrated their friendship with him when he needed it the most.

He had no idea they cared about him that much.

"So," he starts playfully, "how badly you think I screwed up?"

Jones's eyebrows shot up. "Enough, I'd say."

"Neal, I'm sorry," says Diana gravely. "I shouldn't have pushed you into a confession today."

"It's all right," he says. "I needed do to it anyway."

Then the elevator clinks.

"We're here," says Jones and puts his arm around Neal's shoulders in a friendly gesture that actually serves to help him walk without collapsing.

"Thank you guys," says Neal in an undertone. "For helping me to preserve at least some of my dignity," he explains.

"It's fine – " says Diana when Neal interrupts her.

" – and for being here," he says. "And helping me through the interview. And kicking me under the table. And – "

"That's enough, Caffrey," says Diana. "If you're really that grateful, you can invite us to a dinner or make one the next time we're on a stakeout."

"I don't think I'll be doing anymore stakeouts with you," says Neal soberly.

Even as tired as he is, he doesn't miss the look Jones and Diana exchange behind his back.

As Diana helps him into the car, he flashes them his biggest con smile. "Hey. It will be all right, okay?"

It will be all right.

o – o – o

Except that it won't.

* * *

><p><em>AN: This whole story has been beta'd by GrayWolf84. _

_I'm not sure when exactly I'm going to post another installment, thought it will most likely be sometime during the next four days. In any case, I now wish you all wonderful holiday and a great time, hopefully with your family or friends. Happy Christmas!_


	5. Chapter 4

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

_Okay guys, you've persuaded me, so I'm momentarily escaping the Christmas preparations to post this. _

_Now this part would have been nowhere as realistic without my beta GrayWolf84, who knew much more about all the legal stuff in this chapter than me and was willing to do some research as well. _

_Enjoy your Christmas present!_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 4<strong>

Neal is woken up some sixteen hours later by a gentle knock on his apartment's door. After he realizes where he is, he gets up with a soft moan and realizes he is still wearing the same clothes from three days ago. Apparently Jones's and Diana's generosity included only half-carrying him upstairs, not changing his clothes (for which he is actually very, _very_ glad. The first thing he'll do after he deals with the knocking annoyance is take a long shower before he eats and then sleeps some more. He _definitely_ stinks).

"Give me a minute, please," he calls to the door and then quietly groans. The sleep has surely helped a lot, but he is still feeling giddy and – well, not really there. And he is _really_ hungry and thirsty.

He at least rearranges his hair into something less resembling a mop, drinks some water and washes his face before he opens the door.

"June!" he says with a smile.

"Hi Neal," she replies. "May I come in?" she asks and indicates to the tray with breakfast in her hands.

Neal would actually prefer her not to, but he can't offend June's hospitality, so he nods his head and smiles. "Sure. That'd be nice."

June enters and brings the tray on the balcony before she fires the first question. "So what happened? How did it go? Is Elizabeth all right?"

Neal grimaces a little. "Would it be a problem if I took a shower first? I kinda want to get out of these…"

June smiles. "Of course not, dear. I'll wait for you here," she sits into one of the chairs outside. Her expression is telling Neal that she won't leave until she hears the whole story.

"I'll be quick," promises Neal and grabs some of his clean clothes before he heads to the bathroom and finally gets out of the stinking rags that he promptly throws into the trash, an act that fills him with great satisfaction.

When the tepid drops of water hit his body, he feels like he is in absolute heaven.

That is until the memories of yesterday starts to resurface.

Neal groans. What the hell has he done?

o – o – o

"Here I am," says Neal five minutes later, freshly clothed, with his hair wet and generally looking much more awake. June has to admit he looks very charming and cute.

While June isn't a woman who falls easily for someone's charm, she knows how to appreciate nice things – as which, Neal Caffrey certainly qualifies.

That doesn't make her affection for the young conman any less genuine.

When she sees the carefully hidden spark of hunger in Neal's eyes as he views the waffles and the other pastries, June laughs and decides to take mercy on him. "_Bon appétit_, Neal dear! We can talk later. Now, enjoy your breakfast!"

"Thank you," says Neal with a smile and very quickly (but still with amazing dignity) begins to devour all the food on the tray and drinks up maybe three glasses of juice before he finally slows down and picks up his coffee.

June recognizes that as a sign that her young companion is no longer in danger of dying of thirst or starving and begins asking her questions.

Starting with the most pressing ones. "So tell me Neal, what's happened? Are you a fugitive?"

Because, while June wouldn't really mind harboring a fugitive conman (she herself has been on that side of law once or twice, after all), doing so would mean to take precautions. Serious precautions.

Neal sighs. "We've saved Elizabeth, and no, I'm not a fugitive… but it is a close thing." He sets down his coffee cup, puts his elbows on the table and interlaces his fingers. "June," he says quietly, "that lawyer you talked about…?"

"I'll call her right away," says June immediately.

Neal looks down and shakes his head. "Honestly, I don't know how much help she can be. I did something stupid yesterday…"

"What happened?" asks June gently.

Neal bites his lip before he stares right into June's eyes. "I confessed to everything. In front of five FBI agents."

"Oh my," exclaims June softly. "What possessed you to do this?"

Neal shakes his head and utters a small snort. "I'm still not sure I really regret it," he says honestly and looks directly into her eyes. "But the thing is, I gave them all the proof they needed. … I'm in trouble."

"Well, Jennifer's father was my Byron's lawyer when they arrested him, and he got him a pretty good deal," says June. "He was also an attorney in a case when a man stole fifteen million dollars, impersonated a US ambassador, stole a few cars from some prominent figures and forged several very nice paintings."

"And?" asks Neal with interest and picks up his coffee.

"The client got six years – "

"Not bad," says Neal politely.

" – _after_ he let his mouth run in a bar about half of the things they accused him of," says June with a victorious smile.

Neal whistles. "Now _that's_ not bad at all."

June pats his shoulder. "They say his daughter is even better."

"I'm … not sure I can afford that right now," admits the young conman in obvious embarrassment. "I _do_ have some backup resources, but it would be really unwise to try to access them now, with the FBI scrutinizing my every step – "

"Don't worry about that," says June firmly.

The thief across her bites his lip. "I don't want to take advantage of you – "

"Nonsense," states June resolutely. "Trust me; I can easily afford to give you a loan. Besides, Jennifer and I have known each other for a very long time."

"Really? How did that happen?" asks Neal curiously.

June gives him an impish grin. "Simply. Jenny is my niece."

"Your _niece_?"

"Well, she is actually my cousin's daughter… but she grew up calling me 'Aunt June'. I'm sure she won't refuse if I ask her a little favor," says June confidently.

Neal sets his coffee down. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I know you didn't have to do this."

"It's fine, Neal," says June compassionately.

She still knows very little detail, but from Neal's call a few days ago, she understands that a con – some sort a really huge theft – has gone wrong, that it has torn apart Neal's and Mozzie's friendship and that Neal has been trying very hard to make it right after Elizabeth Burke got kidnapped.

June knows plenty about cons that went terribly wrong without it really being anyone's fault.

She saved Byron from consequences of two such cons.

It was after the third one, five years after Byron's release from prison, that he finally decided to retire his "night job" and settle into a much calmer, mostly legal life.

"I need you to give me a rough summary of your case so that I can call Jenny," says June. "And afterwards, I want the full story."

Neal runs his hand through his hair and looks away. "The full story will take a long time," he says, obviously anxious what June will think about him when he finishes his tale.

June just reaches for one of the waffles and drinks a small sip of her coffee.

"Then it is a good think that I have a lot of time."

Hesitantly, Neal returns her smile. Then he starts telling her a story about a submarine, old adversaries and one cursed, but marvelous, Nazi treasure.

o – o – o

"Well, from what you've told me, I think our best shot is to contest the voluntariness of your statement and proclaim that your Fifth Amendment rights were violated," says Jennifer Clarke levelly. "If we can get your interview out of the picture, most of the evidence against you is circumstantial at best – "

"No."

The lawyer speaks as if he had never interrupted her at all: "We can easily argue that you were coerced into making a confession. Given your condition on the tape and the fact that there were five agents present, it will be very believable. We can also later use the same line to exclude as much evidence as possible, thanks to the fact that most of it wouldn't have been found if you hadn't spoken to the FBI – "

"I said no, Jennifer," says Neal tiredly. "I'll readily listen to any other advice you have. But I refuse to withdraw my confession. That stays."

It has been a subject of their argument for the last hour and a half.

"Mr. Caffrey," says Jennifer slowly, "do you realize that if your confession stays, you are facing the possibility of thirty years in prison?"

"I'm prepared to take that risk," says Neal calmly.

Jennifer frowns. "Neal, stop being so damn stubborn and stupid – "

"Impugning the statement won't save me from jail, Jennifer, but if I do that, I will lose my friends _and_ any remnants of credibility at the court," explains Neal. "It's simply not worth it."

"That's all very nice and perfect, but do you realize that you're leaving me with almost no cards to play?" says Jennifer sharply. "If I am to get you out of this mess, then I need you to work with me. If you won't withdraw your confession, I can't really promise you anything better than twenty years. Are you _sure_ you want to go there?"

Neal almost drops his coffee cup as his hands start to tremble.

"Is this friendship really worth this much to you?" asks June's niece quietly.

Neal puts the coffee down before the cup breaks.

"It is," he says steadily.

"If your friends are real, they will forgive you in time," says Jennifer gently. "Help me, tell the court that your confession was coerced and involuntary, and I can guarantee you that in _worst_ case, you'll get out of jail at your fortieth birthday. You're a brilliant conman. You can persuade the jury that you're the victim in all of this. Show them your charm, play them, gain their sympathy and maybe you won't have to do a time at all."

Listening to her makes Neal understand why Jennifer is so successful at what she does: deep down, she is a con artist as well.

It sounds tempting, oh so very tempting. Neal has successfully lied to a jury before. In his head, he already starts imagining it – some facts couldn't be hidden, so those would have to be kept and twisted to serve his purposes. Other things – like the forgery of the Degas – _could_ probably be denied, as there is no direct proof against him. El has already passed the message to him that she and Peter won't be pressing charges against him for breaking into their house. If it comes up at the court, he can claim he wasn't after the manifest at all. The scrap of the painting is gone. If he tells that he had no idea that Moz had the treasure…

But even if Neal thought nobody would stop him, even _if_ there was the chance that it would actually work, he knows that he can't do that anymore. He is still a criminal, a thief and a conman, but sometime during the last few days, he has drawn a line that he now refuses to cross, even should it cost him the best years of his life behind bars.

Or maybe the line has been there for months, only Neal was too blind to see it then.

He looks back at Jennifer. The fact is, the charges against him are – bad. First Degree Criminal Possession of Stolen Property, aka Mozzie's "gift" to him in the form of the Nazi treasure. First Degree Grand Larceny for the cursed Degas painting. Hindering Prosecution. Several conspiracy charges. Tampering with physical evidence. Together, they are about seven or eight felonies with a few misdemeanors thrown in to make the whole bunch more interesting.

Neal swallows.

"I'll have some pretty good character statements from my colleagues at the bureau and one from Elizabeth Burke," he says at last. "And… I think I want to plea bargain. I want the confession to stay, but I can sugarcoat things with the prosecutor, paint the facts in a more favorable light. I'll lie, I'll play the part of a victim; whatever you think the best as long as it doesn't involve breaking the trust of Peter, Diana, Jones and the rest. Can you work with that?" he asks quietly.

"Let me repeat that. You expect me to base most of your case on _character testimonies_, despite the fact that you have a felonious criminal record," says Jennifer flatly. She pauses. "Are you _crazy_?"

Neal gives her a charming smile. "I've been told you can make miracles happen. Can you?"

Jennifer makes a heavy frown. "Depends on how great those "character testimonies" would truly be… I suppose. Maybe. … Let's see… I'm pretty sure that they're gonna drop the felony escape charge themselves. There are a lot of factors speaking in your favor concerning that."

"Like the fact that I waited for the federal agents to arrest me and practically put the cuffs on myself?" asks Neal with a spark of amusement.

"Yes, something like that," says Jennifer disinterestedly. "The mere fact that they let you stay in your apartment speaks volumes about the "credibility" of that accusation. … Alright. Of all the charges, the worst are definitely the First Degree Criminal Possession and the Grand Larceny. Given your confession, there is really no way out of them – but with a plea bargain, we _may_ be able to persuade the prosecutor to lower these to second or even third degree. That leaves us with conspiracy to sell stolen property, conspiracy to criminal possession, evidence tampering, hindering prosecution, a third degree burglary for when you took the Degas and some other minor charges."

"You don't think they'll believe me if I state I was against selling anything from the treasure?" asks Neal after a small pause.

"Well, your testimony leaves us in a sort of shady area on that one… Yes, given the fact that evidence on this one isn't foolproof, they probably won't fight too hard to drop that. Actually, if you can make a _really_ good impression on the prosecutor…"

"I can," says Neal decisively.

"Since you will plead guilty to the bigger crimes, he won't probably bother with the small ones – the misdemeanors, at least. But if you make a really good impression, we can get him to support a concurrent sentence instead of a consecutive one. He also might, and I repeat _might_, be willing to let go one or two of the lesser felonies as well," says Jennifer.

Neal feels like he is starting to be able to breathe again.

"Even _if_ this all works, that's still easily ten years in prison," warns him the lawyer.

Neal shrugs. "It beats thirty," he says.

"Are you _absolutely,_ _completely_ _sure_ that you don't want me to get the confession thrown out of the equation?" asks Jennifer once more.

And here they go again.

o – o – o

When Neal opens the door, Sara gives him a tentative smile.

"Sara!" says Neal in an obvious surprise before he recovers and beams at her. "What are you doing here? Come in!"

She steps inside.

"Careful on the floor," warns her Neal – just in time as she almost stumbles across a small pile of books halfway to the entrance.

When she enters, Sara immediately notices that everything in the apartment is upside down. There are several boxes on the ground; clothes lay everywhere, bottles of wine form a line on the draining board, the kitchen table is flooded with art supplies and – is that an hourglass on the desk?

It takes Sara a minute before she finds her voice again.

"Caffrey, what the hell is going on there?"

Neal offers her his most charming smile. "June has offered to preserve my things for me! She would even let me keep them here, but I thought it wasn't fair on her, so they'll probably go to the attic until I return."

"You're _packing_?"

"That's it."

Sara looks around in disbelief. "I don't understand. You're packing? Where do you think you'll go?"

"Is that so hard to guess?"

Sara just stands there, her mouth hanging open. "I don't believe this," she says again.

Neal drops the smile and sighs. "Look, do you want to sit down? I know this place looks a little crazy right now, but I could get us some wine so we can talk."

"Fine. Let's talk."

She drops herself onto one of the chairs while Neal carefully takes a good portion of his art from the kitchen table and moves it to his bedroom.

"Would you like white or red?" he calls from the bedroom and then returns to grab another armful of his things and puts then away.

"Red, please."

Neal maneuvers his way between the boxes and handily opens a bottle of wine and pours them both a glass. He gallantly offers it to Sara before he takes the seat opposite her.

"So, what do you want to know?" he asks.

Sara looks around. "Is this real?" she asks bluntly.

Neal sights. "Sara…"

"This is not like you. What's going on, Neal?"

Neal gently pushes his glass away. He puts his elbows on the table and lays his chin on his interlaced fingers.

"What's going on is, tomorrow's my parole revocation hearing." His voice drops to low level. "Tomorrow afternoon, I'm going back, and I don't mean just for the two remaining years. Even if my hearing on the criminal charges next week goes extremely well, I won't see this place again for a long time. That's what's going on, Sara."

"Oh Neal…"

"It's not like I didn't know this would happen," says Neal lightly and stands up. "So," he says, turning away from her, "any advice on how to pack all these things? The last time I remember doing something like this, I was fourteen years old."

Sara snorts. "Seriously? You can't think I'll believe you haven't packed on your own in the last seventeen years!"

"Well, I've made it my habit to travel very lightly," says Neal. "Also, I usually didn't stay that long in one place – except for prison."

"Afraid of getting caught?"

Neal smiles brightly. "No, I wanted to commit as many alleged crimes as one lifetime can take."

"Are you trying to tell me you were living on a crime-committing timetable?" asks Sara incredulously.

Neal looks up from the pile of books he's putting into a box and gives her a wicked smile. "You didn't know that, did you?"

Sara shakes her head. "You're incorrigible, Caffrey," she says flatly.

She immediately regrets it when Neal drops his eyes and looks away. "I didn't mean it like that," she says hastily. "Neal – "

"I understand," he interrupts her and looks back at her. It surprises her that Neal is calm, collected and – honest. "I know you didn't mean it in a bad way. Though you could have; you might not have been that far from the truth."

Sara shakes her head and gets up. "I didn't come here to judge you – "

"You have the right," says Neal. "This has affected you as well."

The next second, she kneels down next to Neal on the floor. "I won't judge you, Caffrey."

"Why not?"

She takes his hand in hers.

Hesitantly, Neal puts his free hand on her shoulder.

Sara leans forward. Neal meets her halfway.

They kiss.

It's brief, just a gentle touch of lips to lips.

It's Neal who pulls away first. "We really shouldn't do that now," he whispers.

Sara leans back as well. "I know," she says quietly.

Viciously beating down the sadness, she softly squeezes Neal's hand. "I came here as a friend."

"Okay."

They stand up.

"It was Elizabeth who put me to it," explains Sara, feeling the need to elaborate. "She told me everything. She wanted to drop by, but she thought that wouldn't be fair to Peter. And she's still a little afraid of going out on her own. So she called me."

"That was nice of her," tells Neal hoarsely, and Sara squeezes his hand again. "How is she?"

"She'll be fine," says Sara honestly. "She's a bit jumpy and she hasn't been sleeping well, but she has the best support in Peter. Keller didn't physically hurt her. Peter told me he's thinking about renovating the house. El says she still likes it there, but it brings back memories, so he's considering renting a flat for some time; let some company repaint the kitchen and rearrange the things there."

"Will Elizabeth go for it?"

Sara chuckles. "He still hasn't had the courage to even suggest it to her. What do you think?"

Silence.

"You wanted to know why I never stayed long in one place?" asks Caffrey suddenly.

"I can imagine – "

"This," he looks around and extends his arms, "is _exactly_ the reason. Because once you stay for too long, you get attached. You build foundations. You start to _care_. You let your guard slip, leave evidence behind instead of cleaning it up, until one day you wake to find the cops at your doorstep. You make friends, and then when you have to run, there are victims left behind. Your friends are hurt; y_ou_ are hurt, and the pain won't leave for months; years, even. One of the keys to being a good conman is to be able to leave at once. No regrets, no looking back, just a new forged ID and another set of memorized facts; another mark, another plan."

"Then why did you choose that life?" asks Sara.

Neal gives her a bitter smile. "Well, in the very beginning it was out of necessity... which lasted about three or four months, by the way. I enjoy the rush," he says honestly. "The money doesn't hurt either, but mostly it's about the challenge. Knowing that it's your painting hanging in the world's most famous museum makes you feel powerful, appreciated. Once you start, it's hard to go back, even without the FBI breathing down your neck."

"Sounds lonely," says Sara neutrally.

"Maybe." Neal walks to the table and absentmindedly picks up his glass of wine. "So, that is the reason I don't really know how to pack a whole apartment full of stuff – "

"I could teach you," offers Sara softly.

Their eyes lock.

"I don't think we really have the time," answers Neal quietly.

Sara frowns. "You won't even try?"

"I've been trying for some time now," says Neal. "It didn't really work out."

"That's not a good enough reason to give up."

Neal's face turns solemn. "Then what is?"

"Neal – "

"What reason's good enough, Sara?" asks Neal in a whisper.

The talk is no longer about packing things.

Silence.

"Let me help you with your stuff," says Sara at last. "Any special thoughts about how you want them arranged?"

"No," says Neal. "I just need to put them in the boxes."

"Well, that's easy, then."

First, Sara lets Neal show her all the things he intends to pack before she starts telling him what to do and organizing everything into neat piles.

"What clothes are you gonna wear tomorrow?" asks Sara about half an hour later.

Neal sighs. "I – don't really know – "

Sara puts down a handful of brushes and walks to Neal to envelop her arms around his neck. "Tell you what; I'll help you choose."

"Sara – "

"And after we clean all this up, you're making me a dinner. Then we'll sit and play a game of chess or whatever you have here, so that you won't spend your whole evening thinking about tomorrow."

Neal frowns. "I can't keep you from going home – "

"I have everything with me I need for work tomorrow," interrupts Sara firmly. "I've already spoken to June; she offered me a bed downstairs. ... I think you could use a friend right now, even though I don't want us to get involved into something more right now."

"That's probably a good idea," agrees Neal with a nod of his head.

"It is."

After a while, they step away from each others and return to their work.

"So," asks Sara after a while, "what are you going to make me for dinner?"

o – o – o

"… and I know how much you hate the therapist, so I've bought us a few treats while you were with her," says Peter seriously.

El gives him a warm smile that makes him ache with happiness. "Okay honey, show me what you got."

They're sitting on a couch in their living room and Peter is holding both of Elizabeth's hands in his.

"Okay hon. Close your eyes… don't open them…. And wait for me."

He slips her hands and walks to the kitchen. He returns quickly with a paper box, guiltily ignoring El's shrinking when he unintentionally brushes against her arm. He opens the box to reveal all kinds of small cheeses, various kinds of spreads and salads and a small container with cherry tomatoes.

"One more moment…"

He returns with two plates, forks, some pastries, beer and a teddy bear that he quickly arranges on the table.

"You can look now."

Elizabeth opens her eyes and squeaks in delight. "Oh honey, you shouldn't have…"

"I didn't have time to get candles…" Peter clears his throat. "You like it?"

"I love it! … Let's indulge."

And so they eat, laugh and cuddle, making one more step back to normalcy.

When El laughs and pushes Peter to his back on the couch, he finally knows that the two of them are going to be just fine.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Okay, now _we're _officially in the second half of this story – meaning, there will three more chapters and an epilogue._

_For anyone who's interested, I'm willing to send you a more detailed version of the charges against Neal – they're all very real, they come directly from the NY laws and I still have them written in a separate document in my laptop._

_So, if you're feeling morbidly curious or slightly masochistic, let me now and you can have them. They're pretty ugly – I felt a little sick just from seeing all of them, and I've known that it would be bad – not to mention I already had an idea about how this all is gonna end. Also, if there is someone who has absolutely no knowledge of all the legalities here, I'm willing to write a short explanation for you, just let me know._

_Happy Christmas, Chanukah or any of the holiday you might be celebrating!_


	6. Chapter 5

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

_As always, this has been beta'ed by GrayWolf 84._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 5<strong>

"It's still a long road, but in the end, she'll be okay. I'm coming back to work on Monday," says Peter to Kramer the next morning.

"I'm really glad to hear that, Petey," says Kramer and takes a sip of his coffee.

They have been talking for almost an hour, undisturbed, while El is going over some things for work on her laptop.

Abandoning the subject of El's recovery, Kramer fills Peter in on the happenings at the bureau and explains that Keller is still in a coma at the hospital – the doctors are uncertain whether he will ever wake because of the damage due to the shot he took.

"All the accomplices we caught will go to trial in the next two months," says Kramer. "They've been very helpful, trying to put the sole blame on Keller. By spilling information, they're trying to get deals – "

"As usual," says Peter in anger and disgust. "The deals we make with this scum make me sick."

Kramer frowns. "They won't just get away, Peter. We already had a lot of evidence on Keller; while they won't receive the maximum sentence, I don't expect any of them to get less than fifteen years. Elizabeth is more than just an ordinary citizen; she's an FBI agent's wife."

Peter gets up and starts pacing. "What's _wrong_ with our system, that these men, who would have gladly beaten _my wife_ to oblivion had we not gotten them in time, may get the same sentence as the man who – "

"Stole a seventy years old treasure? Forged a six million dollar painting to cover his tracks?"

Peter sits back on the couch and drops his face into his hands. "I should hate him. He lied to me, he broke my trust and everything I stand for. If not for his deceit, El wouldn't have been kidnapped."

"But you don't hate him," says Kramer quietly.

Peter looks up and lets out a hollow laugh. "How could I? He saved her. He pulled the _stupidest_ stunt that was almost bound to get him killed just to save El."

"He betrayed your trust, Petey," says Kramer gently.

"You think I don't know that?" opposes Peter bitterly. "Damn it, just _thinking_ about it still makes my blood boil. How could he _do_ that – for months, stare at me with this freaking angelic innocent expression of his, tell me to my face that he didn't steal the art, while he knew where it was the whole time. Even knowing that he was protecting Mozzie, some part of me just can't accept that."

"You shouldn't have to," says Kramer firmly. "The fact that Caffrey was covering for his partner in crime doesn't diminish his guilt for the things he has done."

Peter sighs.

"Mozzie was more than Neal's partner in crime," he says tiredly, not really sure why he is defending Neal. "We know next to nothing about Neal's life before he turned eighteen, but sometimes I think Moz was the only semblance of family he had left. I can even sort of understand why he did what he did…"

"Peter, your friend got involved in a heist of the century," says Kramer.

"I know," says Peter frankly. "He screwed up. Spectacularly."

"That he did," says Kramer. "Peter, he completely disregarded the consequences of his actions for the people around him."

"I know," says Peter heavily.

They sip their coffee.

"You were right," says Peter tightly. "About slapping cuffs on Neal – taking down a friend. It hurt. It _hurts_."

"You still consider him a friend."

Peter laughs humorlessly. "It's mad, isn't it? This whole freaking situation should be crystal clear. Except it's _not_."

Strangely, this is the first time in three weeks that Peter has talked about Neal. He thinks about how messed up things have become, when he can tell Kramer the things that he would have normally told El, Diana, Reese or even Jones; Kramer, whom a mere month ago he hadn't seen for good five years and who – despite the undeniable respect Peter holds for him – is really more of an authority or acquaintance than a friend.

"And you know what?" says Peter boldly. "Despite everything, the image of Neal in that orange jumpsuit makes me want to _punch_ something. Think me naïve, but I'm inclined to believe he told us the truth in his confession. He gave up a treasure that people would kill for – that they _have_ killed for. He dragged his feet; he committed crimes along the way that can't be justified, but still, the fact that he chose us, even though he was forced to decide… "

"You think he honestly chose the law over his crime life?"

"I don't know why, but I think he did," says Peter. "And faced with the odds he had, that counts for something with me. Despite the rest, it counts for a lot."

"I understand your point, Petey," says Kramer. "But the parole board has revoked Neal's position. I don't know how forgiving the law will be because Caffrey committed a lesser crime than he could have."

"The system isn't perfect," says Peter.

"If you could give him another chance – "

"I would," says Peter without hesitation. "There are – things between us – that may never be all right again. But I would give Neal another chance, even now. _Especially_ now."

He puts his cup back on the table.

"It's not fair."

o – o – o

Feeling nervous, but hiding it well, Neal is in the back of the courtroom, waiting for the judge to arrive and for his hearing to take place.

As expected, his parole had been revoked last week. Then he was sent to a temporary lockup to await his preliminary hearing – and a trial, in case the hearing goes bad. Neal really hopes it won't come to that.

Taking a deep breath, he stops himself from imagining the possible worst case scenarios and instead concentrates on the matter at hand.

His lawyer has outdone herself during their talks with the prosecutor, and as a result she has gotten a good half of the charges dropped and some others lowered to a less terrifying level. If nothing goes wrong, Neal will plead guilty to Third Degree Grand Larceny, Third Degree Possession of Stolen Property, Third Degree Burglary and Second Degree Hindering Prosecution. Now he can only hope that the judge will accept that.

He looks sideways and notices that Jennifer looks completely calm and almost bored. Maybe she is – she has undoubtedly been through this countless times before. Neal wishes he had more of her calmness and confidence – but then Jenny is not facing any charges herself. Still, he knows he couldn't have wished for a better attorney – not just because she has handled his case amazingly so far, but because she actually understands him. Except for their few initial differences, they have been working together really well.

Suddenly, Jenny turns to him and flashes him a small, supportive smile.

'_It will work out,'_ she said to him this morning. _'There are a lot of mitigating circumstances. Just stay calm, be polite, maybe look a little contrite and don't do anything to piss off the judge. I'll handle the rest.'_

Neal relaxes and gives her an almost imperceptible nod to show her that he's okay. Jennifer was right – they can do this.

Then the judge enters the chamber.

_Oh God._

Neal's calmness evaporates as soon as he sees the man's face. Instead, his stomach clenches with a sinking feeling of dread.

It seemed like such a brilliant idea at the time. It was clever, but most of all, it was _fun_ –

And now, he is once again facing the man he conned, and the man can destroy his whole world with just a few words or sentences.

He immediately realizes that despite the changed circumstances, he can't fall apart now. He still has Jenny on his side, he has several really great character statements and Diana, Jones and El are here to testify for him personally before the judge.

Yet if Neal wasn't an agnostic, this would be the time when he would start to pray.

o – o – o

There is a small group of people waiting for him outside. Neal asked them not to be in the courtroom for the conclusion, thinking that if the judge rejected his plea bargain and everything went to hell, he would at least have some time to compose himself before facing them.

Thankfully his plea has held and Neal Caffrey is now a freshly sentenced convict to be returned to prison.

Still, now that he knows the verdict, he can fully appreciate these people who have taken their day off to come here and support him. Seeing them here – so unlike the last time – makes Neal think that maybe this all has been worth it after all.

"So how did it go?" asks Diana immediately as Neal leaves the courtroom with two guards at tow.

Neal turns to the guards with his most charming smile. "Could you guys just give us a couple of minutes, please?"

He is pretty sure that it's the presence of the FBI agents that makes them grudgingly agree.

When the guards step a few meters aside, Neal once more takes in the whole group. There is June, Diana, Sara, Jones, El – Peter is missing.

_Peter's still missing._

"The judge accepted my plea bargain," says Neal when they all stare at him expectantly. "He also insisted on a fine for Reckless Endangerment. No other charges were brought up and my sentence will run concurrently."

"Thank God," breathes Sara in relief.

"So…?" voices June for the rest of them.

Neal hesitates for a second. "Five years," he says at last.

"It's good news," he says hurriedly when he sees El's and Sara's crestfallen expressions and the blank faces of the rest. "I mean it. Five years's good." He even manages a perfect smile for their sakes. "_Really_ good."

The resulting silence soon becomes oppressive.

"Well, you really couldn't have hoped for anything better," says Diana toughly at last.

"I know," agrees Neal with a smile.

"Frankly, I'm really surprised the judge and the prosecutor went for this," continues Diana with brutal honesty.

"So am I," admits Neal. "June, when I get out, remind me to buy your niece the very best dinner New York can offer. She was absolutely brilliant – I think when she was done, the prosecutor barely remembered his own name, and the judge appeared to be torn between feeling amused and intimidated."

"She has the best genes," says June fondly.

"That she has, my lady. That she has. … I really couldn't have done it without her. I can't thank you enough for recommending her."

"That's all right, dear," says June.

A pause.

"So, what's with the Reckless Endangerment?" asks Jones curiously.

"Ah. That would be the parachuting stunt," says Neal with a mixture of embarrassment and pride.

"But why? You had already pleaded guilty to four felonies," says Diana with a frown. "Why bother with a mere misdemeanor?"

Neal actually blushes. "Well… You remember how I jumped out of a judge's window some year and half ago?"

Diana gapes at him. "You mean… "

"Yep," says Neal.

"Ouch. These people know how to hold a grudge," says June.

"Actually, it was fine," says Neal. "When the judge suggested it, we thought it was the smallest concession possible if it would make him consider my plea. And it worked."

"Still seems kind of petty," says Sara with a frown.

Neal's expression turns into one of deepest seriousness before he speaks quietly: "Sara, the man had the power to turn down my agreement with the prosecutor. I don't know how things would have gone with a jury, but I can guarantee you the result would have been nowhere as favorable as this. Even _within_ the borders of the plea bargain, the judge could have given me two more years, and we still would have been happy for it. … The first time we met, I embarrassed the man, and yet today he showed me mercy. That makes him nothing less than great."

Silence.

Finally, Jones clears his throat. "So, a former CI convicted of theft and _hindering _prosecution."

"That's it," says Neal, taking a deep breath.

"The house will feel empty without you," says June softly and squeezes his arm.

"It's not forever," replies Neal, feeling all awkward and more than a little touched by June's affection. "It will be fine. Really."

Silence.

This time it's Elizabeth who breaks it. "Neal, I'm so sorry – "

"We'll visit," says Sara earnestly, and it takes all Neal's willpower to battle down the sudden nauseous feelings and still appear calm, collected and content, because he has been there before, and he doesn't want them to _visit_ him, nor does he want to think about the next five years –

He should be grateful. With a previous felony record and given the seriousness of the crimes, his sentence could have easily been five, six times as long. It could have been so much worse –

Five years. And this time, they'll all know him as an FBI informant. How the hell is he supposed to survive there for _five years_?

He will probably have to choose between weekly fights and solitary; his mental or physical health, thinks Neal chillingly. And there is no way that visits – even from his best friends – can fix that.

"Really, I'll be fine," he says cheerfully and immediately realizes he needs to tune it down a bit. "You don't have to bother – "

"Don't you dare," growls June angrily.

"She's right," says Jones. "I don't know about visiting, but we'll definitely write to you – "

"And if you don't write back, I'll personally come to get you and hover over you until you compose a half-decent reply," finishes Diana threateningly.

Neal laughs. "So I'm still gonna be your personal "criminal" consultant? Diana, you honor me. I probably wouldn't mind solving a few cases to pass time – "

Sara smacks his shoulder. "How can you joke about this?" she hisses angrily.

"What else am I supposed to do?"

Neal regrets the words the second they leave his mouth.

"This is awful," says El quietly. Neal notices that she is on the edge of tears. "If I hadn't persuaded Peter to take you as your CI – "

"El? Don't," interrupts Neal softly. "It was me who came up with the idea, and I screwed it up. But, despite everything that happened, those two years have been wonderful. I don't regret them. Don't even suggest that this has been a mistake."

"But – " Elizabeth bits her lips and nods fervently. "Okay. But you – we'll stay in touch, all right? Promise you'll be safe."

"I promise," lies Neal fluently. "Everything will be fine. I – "

"Mr. Caffrey?" one of the guards interrupts him. "You need to come with us now."

He smiles at them. "Okay."

Then Sara crosses the distance between them and forcefully plants her lips on his.

Even as he tries to project all his love for her into that simple act, some separate part of his mind feels bitter because of the handcuffs that won't let him return her hug, and also because there is no way one kiss can be enough for the next five years.

The kiss is desperate, lustful, tender and passionate – and then, in matter of seconds, it's over.

"I won't forget you," says Sara hoarsely.

"I know."

Goodbye.

"Take care, Neal," says – June? Diana? Does it really matter? – and Neal exchanges his goodbyes with them until the second guard gives an impatient cough and Neal recognizes it is truly time to go.

One would think, he muses quietly, that he is leaving to war or on some noble dangerous adventurous journey.

The reality is much less gracious.

"It will be fine," he tells them with one last smile.

Although there are no reporters with their cameras, Neal still keeps his peaceful, composed face as the guards lead him away through the hall and later to the transport car.

He will have years to grieve in his cell every night, after all.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_So, what do you think? Love it? Hate it?_

_Two more chapters and an epilogue to come!_


	7. Chapter 6

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

_Again, this chapter, as well as the whole story, has been beta'ed by GrayWolf 84._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 6<strong>

_Ten days later_

When the prison guards let Caffrey enter the room, he seems surprised.

"Agent Kramer? What are you doing here, sir?"

"Am I not who you've expected, Caffrey?" raises his eyebrows Kramer. He enjoys the sight of Neal being off balance, which is the reason why he asked the guards to tell the man that he had an FBI agent visitor, but without any name.

"No, not really." Neal flashes him a brilliant smile. "Good afternoon, sir. What brings you here?"

Despite his beaming face, Kramer doesn't miss the vague bruises around Neal's neck and wrists, nor the scratches on Neal's arms.

"Sit down," motions Kramer to the opposite chair.

Suddenly Caffrey's smile falls and his face becomes even more haunted. "Is everyone all right? Peter and El – "

"Everyone outside is fine, or at least as fine as they were when you last saw them ten days ago," says Kramer calmingly and Neal lets out a breath of relief. "I want you to take a look at something."

With that, he handles Neal a list of paper.

"What's this?" asks Neal warily. When Kramer doesn't answer, he gives him another suspicious look before he starts reading.

Kramer watches the frown forming on Caffrey's face as he reads the list. Then the convict pushes the list back across the table.

"I didn't do this," he says decisively. "I don't know who or why, but it's not my work. I'm not trying to escape."

"I believe you."

Neal raises his eyebrows. "You believe me?" He cautiously picks up the paper again and starts examining it with the skills of a professional forger. "Why?"

"I believe you because I've personally watched Reese Hughes make the first draft of this," says Kramer, enjoying the flash of surprise on Caffey's face before he masterfully hides it behind a blank expression.

"You mean this is real?" asks Caffrey.

"It could be," says Kramer. "This is one of the possibilities that are currently on the table. Hughes is still making calls, but there are at least three prisons you could be transferred to where your inmates wouldn't know of your past cooperation with the FBI."

"Why would the Bureau care about that?"

"Because," answers Kramer slowly, "there is a vast difference between justice and murder. No matter what you've done, you don't deserve to wake up one night with a slit throat. By transferring you, we can grant you relative security."

"I could always stay here in solitary," points out Neal mildly.

"You could," agrees Kramer. "However, most people think that'd be inhuman."

He purposefully leaves out that he is one of them as well.

Neal looks at the paper once more before he lays it back on the table.

"I'm honored by the care, sir," he says slowly. "Are all the other places just as remote as this one?"

"This or more," says Kramer immediately.

The crease on Caffrey's forehead deepens. "And I actually have a say in this?"

"You do," says Kramer honestly. "If for some reason you want to stay here, tell me and the matter will be dropped. However, I highly recommend that you consider it for your own safety."

Neal grimaces. "Nice." He flips the paper several times before he pushes it to Kramer. "All right. What's the other option?"

Neal's boldness takes Kramer aback. "Tell me Mr. Caffrey, why do you think there is another option?"

Neal smiles. "You're here," he says plainly. "If this was just about transferring me, they would have sent Peter or Diana, or even more likely, someone would ask me the question next week during visitation time."

Kramer doesn't bat an eyelid at the precision of Caffrey's deduction.

Then Caffrey lets his smile slip and gives Kramer a serious, accessing look. "What _is_ the other option?" he asks quietly.

If Kramer wanted to back out, now would be the perfect moment. Instead, he reaches for his case again and pulls out a file that he handles to Neal.

Kramer can tell exactly the moment when Caffrey's expression fills with comprehension.

"This," he says hoarsely, "this looks a lot like my old deal."

"There are differences," says Kramer matter of factly.

"I see," mutters Neal as he carefully goes over the details in the document. "Ouch," he winces as he notices some of the alternations. He continues reading before he raises his eyebrows. "A curfew at _nine_? Oh joy…"

Kramer is still patiently waiting until Caffrey notices the biggest bombshell.

The moment it happens the paper falls out of Neal's hands.

"Peter…"

"They won't let him be your supervisor anymore," says Kramer simply.

"But why? … Of course. I screwed up on his watch."

"That is one reason," agrees Kramer. "Also, Hughes refuses to allow you to remain as a part of his team."

Caffrey bites his lip. "I see."

"You have about three more weeks to make an appeal against the parole board's decision," says Kramer.

"What are my chances?" asks Neal.

"High enough to try," says Kramer honestly. "You're lucky that our prisons are so badly overcrowded. The hopes are that by making the conditions of your release tight enough, the board will be persuaded to agree to it. But I can't offer you any guarantees."

"Fair enough," says Neal and runs a hand through his hair.

"I'm returning to DC in two weeks," says Kramer. "By then, I need to know whether you want to go through with this. If you'd like to talk to your lawyer first, I'll understand – "

"If I accepted, that means I would have to leave New York with you," says Neal with a hint of question.

"That's right."

"So, everything I've built here – "

"You have three options: stay in this facility, transfer to another prison or become my consultant," says Kramer directly. He understands Caffrey's reluctance to leave New York behind. He also knows that it won't be easy to arrange for Neal to be allowed to move to another state. He has given the matter a lot of thoughts in the past few days.

In many ways, it would be easiest for everyone to just transfer Caffrey to some remote prison and to go on with their respective lives. But Kramer is willing to pull the strings in case Neal agrees to take him up on his offer. He wouldn't have made it otherwise.

"This is your choice, Caffrey," he says.

Caffrey runs his hands through his hair and rubs his chin. His face is flushed and he is itching to move or do something – what exactly, Kramer doesn't know. He is strained and not hiding it very well – a part of Kramer wonders if he is trying to play the sympathy card with him.

"Why are you doing this, sir?" asks Neal at last.

Not a question that Kramer appreciates, but he concedes that Caffrey has the right to ask.

"I have several reasons; some of them professional, some more of a personal nature. First off, you are very good at what you do," admits Kramer openly. "You will find that, similar to Peter, I value intelligence and competence. Your and Peter's closure rate is unprecedented." He lets Neal process that before he continues. "Also, you've proven you can take care of yourself and keep a cool head even in a bad situation." That is something of a requirement for Kramer since his last partner got himself shot six and half years ago; not that he would tell Caffrey that. "I know you have enough knowledge in the art crimes that you could be an asset."

"With all respect, sir," interrupts Neal, "I'm sure that there are other people with _special knowledge_… probably not as good as me, but also without the whole additional sentence fiasco in their files."

"You're right," says Kramer bluntly. He lets Neal stew for a few whiles before he continues. "On the other hand, at least with you, we actually know what you're capable of. I sincerely doubt you could surprise us with something that would top stealing Nazi treasure or the Degas stunt. Am I wrong?"

"I wasn't convicted of stealing Nazi treasure," says Neal with a perfect smile.

Kramer is not amused.

"Right," says Caffrey and drops the smile, "so essentially, you're saying that I'm a first-class criminal and that I can't screw up any worse than I already did." He pauses. "So what is the reason that you'd want me to work with you?"

"You're persistent," notes Kramer. "You're also more forward than I would have expected."

"I can do forward," says Caffrey. "I just generally choose not to."

They stare at each other, hard.

Kramer can tell right now that if they go through with this, their relationship will be vastly different from Neal and Peter's. He sees that Caffrey doesn't trust him much and the feeling goes both ways. That's fine with him – in case the arrangement fails, he doesn't want another CI he would consider a brother.

Still, thinking of George brings him to what made him consider his offer in the first place.

"You confessed to your part in the crime," he says. "You didn't run, you tried to fix it and stayed here to face the consequences. Maybe Peter was right. Maybe, you actually _might_ have the potential to reform."

Neal raises his eyebrows. "And you want to study me. … Fine. Go ahead."

Kramer clenches his teeth. "I won't put up with an attitude from you, Caffrey."

"What?" asks Caffrey flippantly. "Will you throw me back if I talk back to you?"

"You aren't even out yet," points out Kramer. "And I can always find a creative way to deal with impertinence."

"Meaning?"

"For starters, paperwork," says Kramer. "Hours and hours of paperwork."

"That's not very creative, nor will it make me very useful for your department," says Caffrey.

"No, but it will make my life easier. It _also_ might make you listen to me next time."

"Fair enough, sir," says Neal and politely nods his head.

For some reason, Kramer feels like he has just been tested. He doesn't like the feeling at all.

Still, he recognizes that unlike Caffrey and Burke, they don't know each other well and need to set the boundaries – because if Neal agrees, neither of them will be in a good position to back out.

Neal picks up the draft of his new deal and starts flipping through it again. He shakes his head. "This leaves me next to no free space."

"That was the point."

"The radius – "

" – is more than what you have in prison," says Kramer firmly.

Neal puts his face in his palms. "I know." He snorts. "Peter'd tell me to cowboy up. If he was speaking to me, that is."

"You can't do this for Peter, Caffrey," says Kramer sharply.

Neal lays his hands on the table and looks at him. "What do you mean?"

Kramer doesn't pretend to understand even a tenth of what goes through Caffrey's head. But he thinks he can understand this.

"If you become my CI, you're making a huge commitment for the next five years," says Kramer. "That is not a decision you should make based on your friend's feelings. You can already tell it will be hard. If you screw up, you go right back; if you run, you're back for a very long time."

"I understand."

"Do you?" asks Kramer. "Let's be honest. You take this offer, you're putting yourself under a very close 24/7 watch. Unless you're absolutely _sure_ that you want to go straight, it's probably in your best interest to transfer to another prison and serve your time, because we _might_ catch you after that, but I _will_ stop you if you try anything under my supervision. Do you understand?"

"You're telling me that if I make the deal with the devil, I'll actually get five years of hell," says Neal with a sarcastic smile. "All right; apart from wearing ties and drinkable coffee, are there any upsides to this arrangement? You _do_ have drinkable coffee in the DC, right?" he asks curiously.

"You won't be doing so many undercover assignments," says Kramer flatly, ignoring the weird coffee comment. "That means you won't get shot at nearly so much."

"That's hardly an upside," grimaces Neal. "I actually _liked_ working undercover."

"Well, that's too bad, because you definitely won't be doing any in the next six months," says Kramer directly.

"Perfect," grits Neal and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Despite Caffrey's somewhat annoying resistance, Kramer isn't completely without compassion for the conman.

He knows that in a way, they are asking for a lot. Unlike the first deal, what he is offering Neal is _very_ far from freedom.

"If you do this, you must do it for yourself," says Kramer almost gently.

Neal interlaces his fingers and sighs. "Will I be able to stay in contact with my friends here?" he asks quietly.

"I have nothing against that," says Kramer. "But Caffrey – _Neal_." He waits until he has Neal's complete attention. "This is your call. Whatever you chose, be sure that's what _you_ want, because you will have to live with the consequences for the next five years."

Neal lets out a deep sigh. "All right."

Kramer starts getting up from his chair. "I'll be there back in two weeks to hear your answer – "

"Tomorrow," interrupts Neal. "Sir, can you come tomorrow? I'll have the answer by then."

Kramer raises his eyebrows. "You don't seem to need much time to decide, Caffrey."

The conman gives him a small smile. "That's because my decision has already been made. I only need to realize what it is."

o – o – o

Maybe two or three hours past midnight, Neal is staring at the wall of his cell and thinking about the four options he has.

He could stay in this prison. It would mean weekly visits from his friends and constantly watching his back while making some not-so-nice bargains with the other prisoners. His charm will help him some; despite what Kramer's said, he knows he will _survive_ staying here. The question is how undamaged and sane.

Then there is the possibility of another facility. That means far fewer visits and next to no danger of being beaten, raped or killed. It is the very safe possibility and Neal doesn't like it in the slightest.

Supposedly, he could take Kramer up on his offer. That means to willingly put himself into a cage tighter than any prison. Again, he would leave his friends behind, except for maybe a rare call or email. It would also burn ninety percent of the bridges he has still left with the criminal world and there are some people – not friends, but good contacts and associates – that Neal doesn't want to let go of.

No more big cons. Very few little ones. No more shiny things and easy life of luxury. Very little thrill, very little fun. That option paints a bleak picture that Neal absolutely _hates_.

Or he could run.

He could completely forget the last two years, break from the prison and _just_. _Run_.

All the things he wanted to do, the possibilities he hasn't tried yet, places he hasn't seen, pieces that he always wanted to grab and claim…

He could get back with Mozzie. It would take a lot of groveling and maybe a broken jaw, but he's sure Moz would take him back. He is the kind of friend to forgive the unforgivable.

Together, they could conquer the world. They could go to Louvre and replace all the Da Vinci pieces. Neal could finally steal that beautiful Matisse that he admired from the time he first saw it as a seven-years-old kid. He could return for the diamonds he wanted to appropriate in Burma, or for some of the pieces he admired in Italy. Then there are those things he liked in London – that piece he intended to acquire in Prague – or Tokyo, Neal has always wanted to visit Tokyo –

He could claim his old stashes, add to them and they would buy the tropical island – even _without_ the Nazi loot.

With enough money, he could buy his way to freedom. Give him one year, two tops, and he wouldn't even have to run anymore. He would be able to settle.

The truth is that Neal Caffrey has always been great at running. He could easily create seven escape plans in his sleep – and two or three of them might actually work. Right now, it would take Neal forty minutes to prepare one of his escape plans that has ten percent possibility of him getting shot and thirty five percent of getting caught again – not the odds he would prefer, but he has worked with less before.

Neal now knows all about the FBI procedures; the other agencies can't be that much different. He can run and finally have it all –

'_There is nothing sadder than a con man conning himself.'_

And right then, Neal knows that Adler was right.

He knows that out of the four options, there are two at the opposite ends and two in the middle ground – and he tried to work in the middle ground for the last few months, and it ended with a disaster. Neal knows he won't – can't – choose the middle ground again. After Mozzie's ultimatum, Keller and Elizabeth, after the _pipes_ and his confession and his hearing – he can do better. He _deserves_ better.

No more drowning in the ocean between two worlds.

'_A man or a conman. You can't be both.'_

That leaves him with running or accepting the cage. To become the best white-collar criminal of this century, or to struggle with the new life Peter has introduced him to.

Running is very, _very_ tempting.

'_You're fooling yourself if you think this is who you really are.'_

Maybe he is.

Yet Neal knows that when Kramer comes today (because it already _is_ today, and there is maybe an hour remaining till the sunrise), he won't find an empty cell and a prison at uproar.

Because Neal already made his choice when he decided to confess.

The choice is still scarier than hell.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_So, what do you think of this turn of events?_

_I'm considering writing a sequel to this story. Right now, I don't yet have a clear storyline in mind, but... I think I could make it work, and I've sort of grown fond of this 'verse. I also have some vague ideas for one or two short snippets to accompany this that might fill a few gaps – those definitely wouldn't be from Neal's POV. _

_I know there are still two more parts remaining, so maybe it's too soon to ask, but would anyone be interested in reading either of these if I went through with it?_

_By the way, thank you all once again for all your beautiful reviews!_


	8. Chapter 7

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

_All has been beta'ed by GrayWolf 84._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 7<strong>

"I haven't moved your things," says June when she unlocks the door to Neal's apartment.

"Thank you so much," says Neal.

June smiles at him and opens his arms for him in a hug.

Neal gratefully lets her embrace him and lays his head on June's shoulder when she gently strokes his back.

"You know," says June quietly, "me and Byron had the best family we could have wished for, with our two little girls and later our grandchildren… But we always wanted a son as well." She strokes his hair. "I think Byron would have liked you very much."

"Thank you," whispers Neal as something in him twists. His eyes are burning and he can't let go of June's kind, gentle hug.

She understands.

"I'll miss you, Neal," says June softly.

"I know," he says tightly. "I'll stay in contact, I promise."

June squeezes his shoulder.

"It will be fine, my dear. You'll be fine."

And Neal believes her.

o – o – o

Kramer has given him four hours to pack his things and say goodbye to June – which, Neal realizes, was quite generous of him. He is already done and still has more than two hours left, so he decides to take a shower and then maybe paint June a quick goodbye gift before Kramer arrives to pick him up.

As he wipes away the wetness from his hair and dresses, he stares at the GPS tracker that is once again snapped around his ankle. For now, the radius is June's home. Later Kramer will call the Marshals, take it off at the airport and they will reset it once he reaches Washington DC.

Neal has already listened to a two-hour lecture what will happen to him if he even _thinks_ about running from the airport. The best was the message that Kramer conveyed from Diana – _'screw up and I'll execute the elevator threat and then some, even if I have to chase you all over the Earth; understood, Caffrey? … Please, take care.'_

Shaking his head with a small smile, Neal sets out an easel and a canvas before picking up three brushes and a palette with his chosen colors. He doesn't have much time, so will have to paint the same quick way he forged the Degas –

Somehow, it seems like that happened in a completely different lifetime, yet it wasn't much more than a month ago.

He skips making a sketch with the pencil, confident that he has perfectly memorized the image he wants to paint, and goes right to the brief outlines and the first version of the background and the shapes. The colors have barely enough time to dry when he moves to the second layer. Slowly, the figures on the canvas are coming to life; four people sitting on a bench in the front with several more figures behind them, outside in a park on a winter afternoon, surrounded by trees as snowflakes fall onto their hair and faces, with lamps shining on them. They're all smiling and radiating quiet happiness. There are two dogs playing around, one huge, one small, and it's maybe a week before Christmas when everyone has taken a day off to just enjoy each other's companionship. And as their faces become more and more clear, Neal's hand begins to tremble, until he takes a step back because he simply can't continue.

He doesn't even notice the sound of the door opening, nor the person who steps inside until a hand lands on his shoulder.

"Neal?"

He almost jumps in shock and turns around.

"Peter?"

"Can I see it?" asks Peter gently.

"Peter," repeats Neal tremulously. "Peter… you're here."

"I am."

"How's Elizabeth?" asks Neal immediately.

"She's fine," says Peter. "Well, mostly fine. She still doesn't like being home alone, so I left her with a friend. We're getting some security improvements to help her feel safer – "

"I can help with that," says Neal immediately. "Well, not in person, but I can give you advice. Whatever you need, just tell me."

Peter sighs. "We'll let the specialists deal with it… but we may contact you afterwards as well. You certainly know your stuff."

Neal suppresses the flinch at this half-accusation. "Yes. I do."

There is silence.

Finally, Peter sighs. "Neal, I'm – "

"I let you down," says Neal quietly. "I mislead you. I didn't trust you and I betrayed our friendship. I can't explain what possessed me to break into your house." He takes a shaky breath. "When the warehouse exploded and you accused me, I thought it was a nightmare. All I wanted was to wake up. … Then I found the note and the treasure, and suddenly Mozzie was involved; _I_ was involved, and I couldn't back out. When my painting was found at the crime scene, I slipped right back into what I knew the best. First it was about the treasure… then I was helping a friend… In the end, I just couldn't stop the scam."

Neal makes a pause, trying to compose his next words while Peter waits in silence.

"I was scared. I thought that you would find out and send me back; that you'd think it was all a con for me when it _wasn't_. I thought I could fix things with secrecy and lies..."

"But sometimes, that doesn't work," finishes Peter knowingly.

"No," agrees Neal. "I was wrong. I failed both you and Mozzie, as a partner and also as a friend. I didn't want to pull that last big con, but neither could I be the man you wanted me to be." He holds Peter's gaze. "I don't know if you can believe me, but I _never_ would have done it if I thought you or Elizabeth could get hurt. _Never_. I wouldn't have kept the lies had I known that it would be at the cost of our partnership. … I should have seen it." His voice drops down to whisper. "And I'm sorry."

The silence that follows is long, painful and heavy.

Finally, Peter sighs. "Neal…"

"I'm sorry, Peter," says Neal in quiet, but steady voice. "I was chasing shadows, trying to live in two worlds at once, and it ended hurting us all. I have no right to ask for anything… but if you can trust me at least a little, believe me that I'm sorry for everything."

He would say it to Moz as well, but Moz is gone, an ugly, traitor's sacrifice made so that Neal could pick up at least some shambles of his relationship with Peter and the rest.

Neal swallows. "I never wanted you to get hurt."

Silence.

Peter's eyes are staring right into him. They are burning through him; measuring, judging, assessing. Peter is looking right into his soul, reading him like an open book, until Neal simply can't stand it anymore and breaks the contact. His heart clenches.

He doesn't know how he will pick the pieces when Peter speaks and tells him to stuff his regrets there where sun doesn't shine.

"It wasn't just your fault."

Neal's eyes shoot up.

"I'm not exactly happy with the choices you've made," says Peter. "But… damn it." He looks away. "I'm not good at apologies."

"Apologies?" asks Neal incredulously. "Peter, you have no reason to – "

"That's where you're wrong, Neal." Peter puts his hands on his hips and looks sideways. "Look, I – ah."

Neal waits.

"You're not the only one who hasn't been the best friend," says Peter at last. "When the warehouse exploded, I really jumped your case. And I was wrong. I was angry and suspicious when you needed me the most. My only excuse is that I had just killed a man. … I wonder how things would have been if I'd asked you as a friend instead of as an FBI agent."

"It might not have made a difference," says Neal quietly.

It pains him to admit that. But if they're trying to be honest with each other, then he owes Peter the truth.

"I think it would have," states Peter directly. He shakes his head. "Instead, for months, I made constant subtle jabs to show that I didn't trust you."

"Or not so subtle," murmurs Neal with an almost fond smile, remembering their argument during the De Luca case. Then he loses his smile. "But it doesn't matter, Peter. I _knew_ you still trusted me with the important things; you've made that clear enough. You still had my back. And as for the treasure… you were right. I _was_ involved."

"The point is, I should have sat you down, bought a couple beers or wine and talked to you face to face – without anger, without accusations, just two guys trying to find a way out of a horrible mess."

"You could have tried," concedes Neal. "And maybe you would have succeeded, but maybe you'd have just made me feel more guilty. I don't know if I could have given up Mozzie." He makes a pause before he hesitantly speaks. "I don't… I don't even know if I would have given up the treasure myself. … Probably yes, but… I just don't know."

"You would have," says Peter. "You know why? Because deep down, you know what the right thing is. You're a good person, Neal. You would have done the right thing."

"Peter," whispers Neal, his throat squeezed so much he almost can't breathe.

If Peter noticed his turbulent feelings, he doesn't let it show. "I should have laid the cards on the table," he says. "Instead, I wavered between trying to catch you and to cover for you – which, like in your case, simply blew up into our faces."

"Wait a moment," says Neal, "you tried to _cover_ for me? – Of course," he nods almost immediately. "The scrap of my painting."

"Among other things," says Peter. "Didn't you wonder why I never asked the right question during your interrogation?"

"You asked if I took it."

"And if you had taken it, then the only chance for some damage control would have been to find out as soon as possible and return it," says Peter. "I had plans."

"You didn't ask me whether I knew where it was," says Neal in a sudden realization. "Not even if the things burned, if someone else stole them. "

"If you had plausible deniability, I didn't want to take that from you."

"I knew something was off… but I thought you were too angry to ask about anything else than my guilt," says Neal.

"I _was_ pretty pissed off," admits Peter.

"You thought I took it, but if I didn't, you were buying me time to make it right," says Neal in astonishment. "Even then, you still wouldn't let me fall." He shakes his head. "How did I miss that?"

"Nobody was supposed to notice," says Peter openly.

"I should have. … When you had El test the painting, I had doubts…"

"We both made mistakes," says Peter. "Even though yours may have been bigger than mine."

Neal takes a deep breath. "Are you," he hesitates, "are you still angry with me? Is Elizabeth?"

"I am a little angry," admits Peter. "Mostly I'm sorry for what happened. These past few weeks – "

"Peter, if I had any idea what Keller would do, I would have given him the treasure and damn the consequences. Or I would have confessed. The same goes for Mozzie."

"I'm not so sure anymore about your little friend," says Peter and Neal suddenly remembers that Moz hired men to kill Keller when Elizabeth was still safely home. "But I know you, Neal. And I wasn't talking about Keller. What I really mean…" He takes a deep breath. "You were on your own at both of your hearings and all the time between. Numerous times in these past weeks, I should have been there for you. But I wasn't."

"You were angry," says Neal softly. "And you had every right to be. Besides, you were concerned about Elizabeth. I couldn't blame you even if I wanted – "

"Even when angry, friends should stand by each other," says Peter firmly. Then he sighs. "I tried to be your mentor, we were partners – and then I abandoned you when you were in dire need of my help. Even when you were conning me, you never did that. I looked out for you when you were guilty, but when you actually tried to make things right, I let you drown on your own. If it wasn't for Diana and Jones, for June, your lawyer and Kramer, you could have ended in prison for decades – and I didn't do a damn thing to stop it."

Neal bites his lip and clenches his fists, desperately trying to battle down his raging emotions.

"You did let me down with the treasure," says Peter softly, and it nearly breaks Neal's heart. "But you stayed. You persuaded Mozzie to return the art, you saved El and confessed. And then I let you down even worse because I couldn't overcome my own fear and anger. I failed you. And I'm sorry."

Peter's words bring up all the stress of the past few months, but especially the anguish of loneliness, despair and abandonment that Neal experienced in the last five weeks, when Peter wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't contact him, look at him, wouldn't _care_ –

He doesn't even realize when it happens, but suddenly he lets out a sob. And he is a first class conman, so he should be able to control himself, to mask his feelings – but somehow, he can't. So instead, he just turns around because he doesn't want Peter to see him cry –

Blinded with tears, he stares at the incomplete canvas. _Damn it_ - his shoulders are shaking, and Neal clasps his hands together to make that less visible, but it doesn't help much. He doesn't make a sound except for that first choked sob, and he hopes that maybe Peter won't realize what's going on, or maybe he would be willing to pretend this didn't happen –

"Neal?"

It hurts. _God_, it hurts – the feeling of betrayal and the guilt that it caused, because he was the one who started this – then the feeling that he had screwed up so bad he wasn't even worthy of Peter's _look_; the total devastation at losing the most precious thing in his life because of _his own stupidity – _

"Look, I'm sorry," says Peter and awkwardly lays a hand on Neal shoulder, causing him to tremble even worse – which startles Peter, so he almost immediately removes his hand –

"Don't," chokes out Neal.

"Don't what?" asks Peter.

"Don't let go," says Neal shakily.

It takes Peter some time to figure it out, but then he finally places his hand back. It's like an anchor connecting Neal to the real world and saving him from the depths of some unimaginable abyss –

Peter's _here_.

It's real, tangible, a direct proof that –

_Peter's still here._

Peter just stands her in silence, with his hand on Neal's shoulder. Then suddenly, he slowly pulls Neal into a hesitant, awkward hug. With Peter's quiet support, Neal lets go, lets all his grief and guilt and sadness be washed away with his tears, until everything that's left is just deep, lasting relief.

It's over. It's finally over.

And Peter still holds him.

"I'm sorry Neal," says Peter quietly. "What I've done – what I _haven't_ done – never again, alright? Even if you're away, I won't leave you like this. Whatever happens – if you need me, I'll be there. I promise."

Neal believes him.

o – o – o

"Thank you," whispers Neal quietly when he turns around and Peter pulls away.

"I'll always have your back, Neal," promises Peter. "Always."

Silence.

"Why don't we sit down?" says Neal at last and motions to the nearby couch.

"Okay," says Peter and follows his lead.

So, here they are, sitting in Neal's living room – and Peter seriously hopes Neal knows where to go from there, because he really feels kind of helpless.

"No more secrets, right?" says Neal at last.

Peter nods. "No more secrets."

Suddenly, Neal frowns. "Why is that that every time we make that promise, it gets broken?"

Peter sighs. "You tell me."

Neal winces. "That's right; this one's on my head."

"We'll get better," says Peter. He sincerely believes it.

When he chose to forgive Neal, he did it completely, without second thoughts. It was the only way he could see out of the past events. Now he knows it was the right choice.

They still have issues. But they also have the time – and the will – for repairs.

Then Neal smiles at him – really smiles. "And I'll have your back whenever you need me. … What's with you?" he asks curiously.

It takes Peter a moment before he realizes what Neal is talking about; he realizes that he's grinning like an idiot.

"You're smiling again," he says simply.

"I always smile," says Neal.

"True. But this one reaches your eyes."

"Because I'm happy," says Neal softly. "For the first time since El was kidnapped, I feel like I'm truly alive again. I can breathe."

Peter coughs in embarrassment, a little afraid that Neal will start crying on him again. He will offer Neal his shoulder any time he needs, but he hopes that like him, Neal is willing to pretend it never happened. Peter and emotional stuff doesn't always mix well, though he tries his best.

"That's what partners do," says Peter a bit roughly. "We help each other out."

Neal offers him a soft smile. "Thank you, Peter," he says sincerely.

They sit in silence.

"I didn't always have luck with partners," says Neal quietly. "The first guy I worked with took everything we gained and ran with it. The second tried to backstab me when I wasn't looking." The dark look in Neal's face makes Peter wonder what is the exact story behind this one. "Then there was the short time with Keller… and finally, I found Mozzie, Kate and Alex. And then you."

"If I didn't see the sentiment behind it, I would be almost insulted you compare me with Keller," says Peter with a hint of humor, enjoying Neal's aghast expression. "Relax," he says with a smile. "It was nice," he adds as an afterthought.

Neal gives him a mischievous smile. "Remember that "bad cop, good criminal" con? Or Burke's seven? Or that con when we pretended to be each other?"

"It was a sting," corrects Peter fondly. "I myself was more partial to the Roland brothers' case – except for Savannah." Suddenly, the case doesn't seem so interesting anymore when he recalls the small girl being kidnapped and thinks of El.

"Yes, playing with the sextant was fun," says Neal carefully. "And it all ended well."

"It did," says Peter. "It did end well." He takes a deep breath. "That's what's important."

There is a pause.

"I meant it," says Neal quietly after a while. "When I said I'll have your back – Peter, if you need anything when I'm gone, just let me know. One call, and I'll skip the anklet and be there before the Marshals even notice I'm gone."

"Oh no," says Peter forcefully, "_you_ will do _nothing_ of that kind. You'll stay in Washington, you'll keep your nose clean, you'll work with Kramer and you'll like it. If you ever even think about slipping that tracker, just call me and I'll set you straight, even if I have to buy a ticket and fly to DC. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," says Neal. Then he looks into Peter's eyes. "You know I would go back to prison if it meant helping you or El," he says seriously.

"I know," says Peter. "_You_ on the other hand should know that we will never ask that of you."

"I know," repeats Neal smilingly.

They sit in silence, until suddenly Neal jerks and looks at his wristwatch. "Damn," he exclaims in panic, "Kramer was to pick me up downstairs fifteen minutes ago!" He shoots up from the seat and quickly starts looking around for something. "Peter, I'm really sorry, but – "

"Calm down," says Peter and stands up as well. "I've talked to Kramer." Neal stops his search for whatever he's missing and looks at Peter. "Your flight is at about ten p.m.," explains Peter. "Until then, we have time."

"Oh."

Given the time they'll need to get to the airport and all the things there, that leaves them with almost four more hours. Neal visibly relaxes and comes back to Peter. "That's good, then."

They stare at each other awkwardly, before Neal bites his lip and gives Peter an uncertain smile. "So, would you like some coffee or beer?"

o – o – o

"… it feels like I've signed up for five years of hell," sighs Neal. "I have a curfew, no privacy, my radius's been cut to two hundred feet – and apparently I'm on a very shaky ground to keep even that."

"Do you realize how far Kramer had to go to get you this deal?" asks Peter.

Neal bites his lip. "I may have some idea," he admits quietly.

"Good," says Peter strictly. "Then stop bitching about it."

Neal makes a vague sound to appease Peter.

"I mean it, Neal," says Peter gravely. "Seriously – don't complain in front of Kramer. He had to call in about fifty favors that people in various departments owed him. He really went out of his way for you – "

"It wasn't for me," says Neal. "He did it for you."

"Neal, Kramer has just signed up to spend every day for five years watching over you. That's not something you do as a simple favor to a friend," says Peter. "I'm not saying our friendship didn't play a part, but I can also tell that if Kramer didn't want to take you on, no amount of friendship would have persuaded him to do it. … You've made an impression upon him."

"An impression?" asks Neal incredulously. "Peter, he sees me as a thief. He doesn't like me. He doesn't trust me. Frankly, I'm surprised he left me here to pack without supervision."

"It's a start," says Peter.

Neal lets out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah. It's a start." He sighs and raises his hands in defense. "I know, I know! I could be in prison. Cowboy up – "

"Shush," says Peter gently. Then, to Neal's astonishment, he pulls him into a one-armed half-hug. "I know it's hard," he says quietly. "It will be worth it. You can do it," he says with absolute conviction.

Neal leans his back against Peter's arm. "I'm not sure if this can work out," he says quietly, not quite willing to admit how much all this scares him – leaving, losing Peter's daily support, not to mention all the tight can't-screw-up conditions.

"It doesn't have to be a fight, you know," says Peter soothingly. "Kramer is a good guy. You'll like him once you get to know each other. And you'll grow on him, like you do on everyone else. The two of you will do some good work together."

"I know… but it's not the same," says Neal. "I want to work with you. I always wanted that."

"Always?" asks Peter with raised eyebrows.

Neal gives him a sheepish smile with a hint of mischief. "Ever since you first started chasing me. … It wasn't easy to run from you. You would predict my movements and follow me through the dark places. You were _good_."

"I was, wasn't I?" says Peter proudly.

Neal pokes him a little, testing the boundaries. "I used to imagine all the things we could have done together. The cons we could have pulled if you were on my side of the law…"

"Imagine that," says Peter with a dry smile. Neal is relieved when he realizes that Peter isn't the slightest bit angered.

It also makes him realize what they are both losing.

"I blew it," he says quietly.

"We both did," says Peter.

There is silence.

Suddenly, Neal realizes something. "I didn't even ask – what about you? Are you facing some consequences because of the treasure?"

Peter grimaces. "Well, the fact that you confessed and that it's now safely back went long way to repairing bridges. They blamed me for breaking the protocol with the painting scrap – "

"That's my fault," says Neal in recognition. "My confession – Peter, I didn't realize I was implicating you. I'm sorry – "

"It's okay," says Peter. "It was my decision to work outside the book. Although I almost wonder that, had I had it tested immediately, maybe this all could have been avoided."

"Well, you'll never know," says Neal with a shrug. "So, about you…"

"I got a stern warning," says Peter. "A lot of people spoke for me. I managed to keep my position, though you're not the only one who's on a very shaky probation right now. It will calm down," he says evenly.

Well, it could have been worse. "That's good," says Neal honestly.

Peter frowns. "You mean like "five years in jail" good, or – "

"I mean good," interrupts Neal hastily. The he smiles. "Just good."

"Fine," says Peter.

The silence between them is almost comfortable.

"So, will you finish it?" says Peter and points to the painting.

Neal smiles. "I think I will, now."

He is almost done anyway.

"It's a goodbye-present for June," he explains as he starts mixing the colors again.

"Can I watch?" asks Peter.

Neal hesitates. "Actually…"

This one is personal. Besides, he prefers to paint alone. On the other hand, he has done it with Mozzie observing him before. So… "Sure," he says at last. "Just keep your opinion to yourself until I'm done."

Then Neal picks up the brush again. There it is again, just like in his mind – the winter afternoon, the park, the bench with four people and a small group behind them, the two dogs, the lamps and snowflakes. Neal briefly adds a few lines to the trees before he starts working on the people's faces – the only thing that is really missing beside from some added shadowing. And this time, his hand is steady, even when he moves to the figure sitting in the middle of the bench and to the person standing behind it.

Twenty minutes later, he is finished.

He wipes his hands into a dam cloth and looks at Peter. "Well, what do you think…?"

Peter is very still and very, very quiet, which makes Neal really nervous.

"It's…" starts Peter and shakes his head. "Neal, it's absolutely beautiful."

"You think so?" asks Neal self-consciously.

"It's perfect."

"June made me think about it," says Neal. "She told me Byron would have liked me as his son. It got me thinking about family…"

The four people on the bench are Byron, June, Neal and Sara, Byron's face aged just a little as opposed to how Neal knows him from the photographs. June is putting on a hat and Byron is watching her with obvious fondness and love, while Neal has a slightly mischievous expression in his face and Sara has her head laid on his shoulder. And then there are other people around the bench – Mozzie is standing on Byron's side, some weird sort of spy device hanging around his neck, while on the other side stand Jones and Diana, who is wearing a yellow and red striped cap and scarf. Then next to Mozzie towards the middle stands El, with her arm loosely positioned around the waist of the figure in the middle of the upper row – around Peter.

Peter, who just like the rest of them is smiling. Peter, who looks almost carefree. Peter, who has both hands squarely laid on Neal's shoulders in a gesture that simply radiates care, security, protection and love.

A few steps from the people are Satchmo and Bugsy playing in the white, fresh snow.

The painting holds people that are alive and dead, people from both sides of the law – suddenly, Peter gasps and points to a little detail – Neal smiles at the origami flower in Byron's hand, Alex's signature – and it works.

It is a week before Christmas, it's family time and it's perfect.

"I added Byron because of June," says Neal quietly. "Also because I wanted to accept his legacy."

Peter gives him a questioning look.

"He found the way out," explains Neal softly. "He gave up the scams and gained all this. … I'd… I think I'd like that as well."

"You will," says Peter confidently and put his hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Jones and Diana really helped me after we rescued El," continues Neal. "Mozzie just refused to be left out. We sort of screwed each other these past months… I think the picture is the least I owe him after giving up on him. … I hope I can fix things with Sara, though I'd accept her even as a friend."

"And the others…?" asks Peter gently, meaning El and Peter and Neal.

Neal takes a shaky breath. "It's how I'd like it to be," he says quietly.

"You can have this," says Peter. "You can have _better_ than this."

"I can?" asks Neal vulnerably.

Peter squeezes his shoulder. "Let's give this to June and get your things," he says. "We have a place to visit today."

"A place?" asks Neal curiously. "Where?"

"You'll see," says Peter secretively.

Five minutes later, when Neal has changed into a suit and collected all his things, he carefully picks up the painting and with one last wistful look he lets Peter lock the apartment. Then they go downstairs, where Neal gives the painting to June and exchanges goodbyes with her.

"Take care, dear," says June fondly, and Neal replies that he will never forget her and her kindness. Then they hug, they kiss each others' cheeks and suddenly Neal is out the door, putting his suitcase and his small bag into the trunk of Peter's car. He takes his place next to Peter in the car and waves June goodbye before her house completely disappears from his view.

One chapter of his life is ending. Another has just begun.

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_Only the epilogue remaining now._

_I wish all of you Happy New Year and thank you for your reviews!_


	9. Epilogue

**CAN'T BE BOTH**

**Summary:** In the aftermath of Elizabeth's kidnapping, Neal has to make a life-defining choice - and then he has to face its consequences. Post 3.10 Countdown story.

* * *

><p><strong>EPILOGUE<strong>

When Neal, Kramer, Peter get to the airport, Neal can't help it and lets out a small sigh.

How he had wished for these past two years to be allowed to leave New York! Not that he didn't like the city and working with Peter; however, the two-mile radius was somewhat stifling, and he often longed he could get away, if only for a short while.

Well, now he was about to get his wish, but not in the way he imagined it.

Still, while he wishes he was leaving as a free man, Neal acknowledges that this… well, it's not a dream coming true, far from it, but it's … fine. Mostly.

While Kramer is quietly cursing as he searches his bag for their tickets and Peter is studying the board for information about their flight, Neal lets his mind wander to the farewell dinner at Peter's house.

.

_"Peter, you don't have to… are you really sure you want me here?" asked Neal hesitantly. After all, a few hours before, he had thought that maybe Peter had washed his hands on him forever. He didn't want their tentatively rebuilding friendship to be endangered by making steps that they weren't yet ready for again._

_Peter let out an exasperated sigh. "No Neal, I've obviously been threatened by a flesh-eating ghost and then hypnotized by the pet anaconda that El keeps in her nightstand. Just come in already!" _

_That sounded quite definite, so Neal answered: "Okay," and followed Peter to the house that he had last seen some five weeks ago on the day of El's kidnapping._

_And suddenly, he stopped short in his tracks._

_"Peter…?" _

_In the living room, there were Sara and Christie on the couch, talking and laughing about something, while El, Jones and Diana were playing cards at the table in the dining room._

_It was Christie who noticed them first._

_"Hello Neal, Peter," she got up from the couch and greeted them with a smile. "What took you so long? We were starting to worry that you had been swallowed by a New York traffic jam."_

_"Now that's almost insulting. We would never be overcome by something as insignificant as traffic," replies Neal charmingly, quickly recovering from the shock of seeing all the people here._

_The others noticed them by then and came to living room as well. _

_Suddenly, Neal flashed back to the moment when he had to Peter's house to see it full of agents and with things upside down, and his chest tightened so much that it hurt – _

_"Hi Neal," said El with a smile._

_And like that, Neal could breathe again._

_"Hi everyone," he said softly._

_He didn't quite remember what exactly happened next, but suddenly, they were playing a game of cards and he was teaching Jones how to cheat at poker – ahem, how to _notice_ someone cheating at poker – Diana was telling them about her and Christie's plans for their upcoming anniversary, Satchmo was trying to eat his dinner, El and Christie were discussing El's new event plan, Sara had her arm around his waist – and Peter –_

_Peter was smiling, and everything felt just right._

.

"Here they are," says Kramer at last and pulls out the tickets for their flight.

They walk over to line up before the check-in desks and prepare their ID's – Neal's stomach makes a flip when he realizes that this is the first time in who-knows-how-many years that he's traveling under his own name.

He checks the nametag on his luggage before he surrenders it to be x-rayed and then taken away by the mysterious system of the airport transport.

"You know, these things have the tendency to get lost," murmurs Peter as they watch Neal's suitcase disappear. "I hope you've put at least some clothes in your bag in case your luggage ends up in Texas or Argentina."

"I'm not ten, Peter," says Neal and rolls his eyes. "Have you ever lost your luggage?" he asks curiously.

"Once," admits Peter. "It turned up a week later. I always try to fit everything into a carry-on if I can help it."

"Me too," admits Neal. "It would have been a little difficult this time, though."

Suddenly, Peter smirks. "There was this time when I and El went on vacation and she…"

.

_"Neal, stop. Don't apologize for Keller's actions," said Elizabeth to interrupt Neal's self-loathing speech. _

_When he had seen her heading to the kitchen, Neal had known that he had to talk to her, because there was nobody who had suffered more because of his actions than El. But he hadn't been even halfway done with his apology when Elizabeth stopped him._

_"I'm not saying you couldn't have done things differently," said El. "But it was solely Keller's decision to kidnap me. I don't blame you. Peter doesn't blame you," not anymore at least. "So why do you keep beating yourself over this?"_

_"I understand what you're trying to say, Elizabeth," replied Neal. "But – "_

_"No buts," said El firmly. "I want to move past this. I don't want to spend the rest of my life pondering what "could have happened". So, if you want to help, forgive yourself. For me. … I don't want to lose a friend, Neal."_

_Neal swallowed. "Have I ever told you how amazing you are?" _

_El gave him a playful smirk. "Maybe. Once or twice. I can always hear it again, though."_

_"You _are_ amazing, Elizabeth," said Neal intensely. "And I'll try, I promise."_

_"Good. Now help me with these, please."_

_Neal obediently picked up the two plates, before he noticed Peter in the doorway. _

_Peter gave him an approving smile and then came in to help El with the rest of the things._

_Life was good._

.

Neal shakes his head, recognizing that his thoughts have wandered away once again.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening," he says apologetically when he realizes that Peter's story is over and he doesn't remember a word of it.

Peter and Kramer exchange a look.

"You seem to be far away a lot," says Peter.

"Well, I have a lot on my mind," says Neal a bit defensively.

Peter raises his eyebrows. "Looking for an escape route, maybe?"

"No, Peter," answers Neal sharply. "Do you really think I would do that? I know how hard it was to arrange this – "

"I was joking," says Peter.

"Then it was a bad joke," says Kramer crisply.

Peter has no reply for that.

Neal suppresses a sigh. The waiting alone would be enough to put them all on edge – but this might also be the biggest step Neal has taken since Peter first got him out of prison, and it's affecting all of them.

.

_They expected him to give a speech._

_"Well… I guess I just want to tell you that I really appreciate everything you've done for me," said Neal. "You've been great to me these past two years. And I'll never forget what you've done for me at my hearing," he said quietly. "If not for all of your written statements and then some of you speaking before the judge…" He hesitated._

_"I owe you all a lot," he said at last. "I know I couldn't have wished for better friends. So… thanks."_

_"You better stay in touch, Caffrey," said Diana and Neal smiled._

_"Don't worry, I will."_

_Suddenly, Neal noticed that Kramer had slipped into the room. He looked at his wristwatch, and realized that he still had some time left. _

_They had made the most of it before it was finally time to leave._

.

They move to one of the departure gates.

"All right Neal, let's take care of your anklet," says Kramer and pulls out the key.

Neal lifts his eyebrows. "Now?" They still have about an hour and half till the plane's departure. "Okay."

They find an empty ledge of the wall. Neal places his foot there, takes the key from Kramer's hand and unlocks the anklet. He battles down the jittery rush of freedom and takes a deep breath. He puts his leg down, pulls back the trouser leg and places the key and the anklet into Kramer's hand.

If he wasn't already able to do this himself, then Peter's eyes on him would have been all the support that he needed.

.

_"So, what are you doing here?" asked Neal Christie. "Not that I'm not happy to see you here," he added hastily_

_"You, mister, are spoiling my date time with Diana," poked Christie Neal into his chest. "Since the exhibition runs for another two weeks and you're leaving today, you obviously have priority."_

_"I see," said Neal._

_"I've heard about your new arrangement," said Christie. "It sounds harsh."_

_"Well, it won't be the same as here, that's for sure," said Neal carefully._

_"I just wanted to say – I don't know you very well," said Christie. "But Diana thinks you're a good guy. … Just try to make the most of it, alright?"_

_"I will," said Neal seriously. _

_He had rarely been more determined about something than this. _

.

"So this is it," says Peter.

"This is it," agrees Neal.

"Whatever you need – "

" – just call. I know. And it goes both ways," says Neal resolutely.

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

Then Peter pulls Neal into a hug.

"Take care of yourself, alright?"

"Only if you do the same."

"Then we have a deal – "

" – and if you finally replace this horrible suit," finishes Neal with a smirk.

Peter rolls his eyes. "Very mature, Caffrey. And keep your hands off my wardrobe."

"Hmm, I think I need to corrupt someone else to this cause – maybe Diana or June."

"Okay. Go ahead."

Neal looks at Peter with suspicion.

"Are you telling me I can corrupt your agent to instill you with some fashion sense?"

"Yup."

"And your wife…?"

"If you want," says Peter with a shrug.

Neal's suspicion only grows. "And what will you do, then?"

Peter smiles. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

Neal groans. "Peter…"

"You have been warned," says Peter with a broad, dangerous smile.

"Come on, Peter…"

"No."

"You're no fun," pouts Neal.

Kramer clears his throat.

Neal sighs. "Right." They need to go.

"Call us once you arrive, alright?" says Peter seriously.

"I will," says Neal.

There are so many things he wants to tell Peter right now. Or better, he wants to stay here and repair everything that has been broken in the last few months. But one look into Peter's eyes tells him that he understands.

Peter's eyes also reassure him that even when separated, they could make this work. No matter the distance and all the screw-ups between them, they are still partners, friends. Family.

"I will come back," says Neal suddenly. "If you'll have me, when my time is over, I'll book the first plane or train and come back."

"I know you will," replies Peter.

"Goodbye, Peter," says Neal.

"Goodbye," echoes Peter with a hint of pain in his face.

Then Peter and Kramer exchange their farewells as well and Neal and Kramer go through security to let their carry-on bags be checked by the x-ray machine. Neal looks back one last time to see Peter lift his hand in a parting gesture.

The Peter turns around and leaves.

Neal takes a deep breath and steps into the metal detector frame. It feels like taking another step into his new life.

As he starts to beep and the airport security officer frisks him for potential bombs and weapons, Neal hopes that the other steps won't be quite this difficult. Then he thinks about it… no, not a chance.

Not a chance in hell.

.

_"Will you be alright?" asked Sara as she took his hands into hers._

_Neal smiled. "Yes. Yes, I think I will."_

.

Finally, Neal is sitting on a plane, next to his new supervisor, about to leave for the life of two hundred feet radius, curfew, no privacy and extreme caution, because this time, Peter won't be there to catch him if he slips up.

Then he thinks about today's goodbye party, about the painting at June's home, about all the times with Peter, about El, Sara, June and the others, and he takes a deep breath and smiles.

Peter has said that he could do this. He has told him that it would be worth it.

And Neal knows that as much as this journey seems difficult right now, Peter is right.

He is ready to undertake it to set himself free.

.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><em>AN:_

_Once again, I need to thank my beta GrayWolf84, who checked all this, gave me the nudge that helped me to finish this story and finally get it posted. _

_**Can't Be Both** is completed! It was wonderful reading all your feedbacks, and I enjoyed every step of this._

_As for the matter of the sequel: my exams start this week, so my time for writing anything will be very limited for pretty much the whole January. After that… I'm not making any definite promises - but I already have a rough draft of the storyline, and if the Muses stay with me, at least a little, I think I'll go for it._

_**Thank you all for staying until the end and have a wonderful year 2012!**_

_Lianne_


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